


shallow ends of the mind, infinite depths of the soul

by Miichiyeo



Category: VIXX
Genre: Jumping Timeline, Unreliable Narrator, cyborgau, it'll all make sense in the end, not everything is as it seems, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 174,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miichiyeo/pseuds/Miichiyeo
Summary: Sang-hyuk had long since buried his morality into the depths of his heart, letting his hand be guided into turning whatever was given to him to gold, from human to machine. But as the world around him crumbles to the ground, he latches onto the warm, waiting hand that finally allows him to soar.





	1. Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned: there will be more mature content later on, such as violence, language, blood, and experimentation. If things like this bother you, it might be best not to read. I will mention these again before the chapters if necessary. 
> 
> Please note: this story will be posted on my livejournal account http://kakeyashikaze.livejournal.com/, as well as on AFF under the same name, so please know that this isn't plagarized here. However, please don't plagarize this story, as while VIXX are in no way mine, the plot is.

Its first memory was nothing special.

It opened its eyes, immediately scanning the surrounding area and taking note of everything within a close distance, its first reflex to find anything that had a chance of bringing harm to itself. The tiles in the ceiling, the hanging lamp above—it trailed its eyes down to see a cabinet against the adjacent wall, a locked door beside it that kept the room small and empty. It turned its head down to what it was laying on, carefully pushing against the surface to find it loose. A bed. At that moment, it heard something similar to a quick intake of air—a gasp—and raised its eyes up to see a face staring down at it.

It did not recognize the man, running over the smaller details of the face to try and see if some small facet could help it to recall—wide eyes, a thick nose, lips buried under teeth that left marks that appeared to be permanently etched in—no, it still did not recognize. When the man did nothing more than continue to stare, it turned its attention back to itself, noticing for the first time what its own hands looked like, how they were attached to arms that were connected to shoulders hidden underneath a thin garment that covered down to a pair of knees. It shifted its feet, wiggling the toes to see them move.

“Y-you,” the man said, stammering when it turned to look at him. “Do you know where you are?”

It did not answer, finding it useless when it could give nothing.

“Do you know what you are?”

Again it did not respond, though when the man began to cry, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes and his shoulders beginning to shake, it wondered if it should. While it had no understanding of what it was or where, as the man seemed to be asking for, it was able to tell that the man’s reaction to his silence was not positive. As it watched the man’s head fall and the tears run down his cheeks, it tried to mirror his expression, scrunching its nose and shaking its shoulders to see if it could cry as well. But at the man rubbed at his eyes and breathed loudly to stop his shaking, it found that it could not produce tears the way the man could, its face muscles laxing at the realization.

Gasping again, the man blinked his eyes furiously before looking at him, oblivious to its attempt at mirroring him. “I-I see. Then do you…do you know who you are?”

Having seen how the man cried when it did not answer, it responded immediately, “I do not.”

It listened to the sound of its voice, how it was quieter than the man’s, softer in a way the man’s thicker voice could not reproduce. It wondered if its voice was something made just for it, something to attribute to its thin arms and overall light appearance, or was only a happened coincidence that came about when it was made. The man did not look much bigger than itself, his limbs covered by clothes that hung loosely off his body in a way it could not fully tell, yet his voice was lower than its own.

A question for another time.

The man nodded, again oblivious. “I…I guess you wouldn’t, would you? They really cleaned you out…”

“I do not understand.” It again listened to the sound of its own voice, registering it as its own and comparing it to the only thing it knew. The two voices were a sound it found reasonable to listen to.

The man shook his head, letting out a long breath as he pulled his lips up into a wide smile. It tried to mirror the expression, finding it difficult to copy when there was no previous experience to compare it to. The man’s eyes widened at its attempt, his smile lessening briefly before a sharp noise left his mouth—a laugh. It tried to mimic the sound which only made the man laugh more, his eyes closing as he laughed more and more until tears ran down his cheeks and the laughs became strained, his hands moving up to cover his eyes.

Without the man’s face, it could not register what he was doing, so it waited as the man hunched over and shook, his whole body near convulsing. A part of it did want to know what he was doing, but was unsure what the correct action would be to do so. Eventually, the man sat up, his whole face covered in tears and allowing it to register that he had been crying. It wondered if its attempt to copy his laugh had caused the reaction.

“Sorry,” he said, his low voice distorted. “I’m probably just confusing you, aren’t I?”

“I do not understand.”

The man frowned. “Can you understand the things I’m saying to you?”

“Yes.”

“And can you hear the things I’m saying?”

“Yes.” Of course it could understand what the man was asking, it was just that it could not understand the type of answer he wanted or needed. It was not that it did not understand the meaning of the words he said, it was just that it did not understand how those words could help it describe why it kept its silence. It did not understand how the man could not realize this.

The man nodded again. “Okay. Sorry, I-I…” the man’s voice paused for a second, “it’s just difficult for me. Let’s just start from the basics. Your name is Y21. My name is Sang-hyuk. Can you repeat that for me?”

“Your name is Y21. My name is Sang-hyuk.”

The man frowned, shaking his head. “Ah, no, not like that. Here, repeat this—my name is Y21, your name is Sang-hyuk.” It did as told, and the man nodded, smiling again. “Yes, there, like that. So when you address me, just call me Sang-hyuk. And when I address you, I’ll call you Y21. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good,” the man said, a little louder this time, smiling so wide that his cheeks pushed up into small, little bundles. “So, what’s my name?”

“Sang-hyuk.”

“And what’s yours?”

“Y21.”

“Perfect!” It watched as the man wrote something down on a small book in his lap, smiling the whole time, and it took the time to run over the things it had noticed. Smiling happened when it had a positive interaction or reaction to the man, while frowning happened to the opposite. It rolled its eyes up to the ceiling, looking over the cracks from the tiles. Smiling—smiling was positive.

The man finished writing, putting the book down and reaching out, for the first time touching it as he took its hand in his own. It could not feel the man’s touch, could only see the action take place before it, and watched as the man held its hand loosely, running his fingers over its own. Not knowing what the man was doing or what he was looking for, it mimicked what it had seen, pulling its lips down in a frown, shifting its own fingers to see the man’s eyes widen and his hands tighten accordingly.

“Do you remember me?” the man asked quickly, leaning in so his face was only a short distance from its own, his voice so low it could barely be heard. Unable to answer something asked so quickly and under such a change in expression, it only looked down at their hands, the man having pulled them against his chest. “You can tell me if you do, please. Do you remember me?”

“I do not.”

It answered truthfully with no reservation, yet it was not the answer the man had been searching for. Refusing to meet its eye, the man dropped its hand and stood up, grabbing the book and tucking it away in his pocket. With an expression that was little more than just tight lips and narrowed eyes, the man coughed. “That’s enough for today. I don’t think we’d be able to get much more out of either of us. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.”

The man paused, letting out a slow breath before he nodded, giving it a small smile before leaving out the locked door and shutting it behind him.


	2. Misperception

When he really thinks about, something he tries not to do if he can help it, he can remember everything about that day—from the warm summer breeze that fluttered through the small crack in his window, the humid air pressing down on him and making his skin break out in a cold sweat, to the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen as his mother cooked—he could still feel the rough edges of his desk underneath his fingers, catching on the tips of his nails and hooking softly. He could still picture the stacks of textbooks lining the wall, the covers shut tight and the papers moist with humidity, his throat catching when he let out a slow breath that rolled against the tip of his tongue.

It had been a complete accident that he saw. He hadn’t wanted to do the piles of homework his father had assigned him, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window longingly—to see his father’s car pulling up outside. Curious, he climbed onto his bed and peeked out the window, watching as his father opened the passenger door to let another man step out. Before he could see anything else, there was a sharp knock on his door, startling him as his mother peeked her head in hurriedly.

“Sang-hyuk,” she hissed, her eyes having immediately gone to his desk and narrowing when she saw him on the bed, “your father is home.” There was no warmth in her voice, nothing to betray the seriousness on her face as she stepped in fully. “Hurry and come out to greet him.”

“He has someone with him,” he whispered back before he could stop himself, slight satisfaction running through him at the look of surprise on her face.

“He does?”

The front door creaked as it swung open, both Sang-hyuk and his mother rushing out to greet his father before he had a chance to see they were late. He didn’t, his father busy handling a box as he tried to slide his shoes off. Sang-hyuk’s mother took the time to quickly fix Sang-hyuk’s hair, her eyes glazed as she ran her fingers over Sang-hyuk’s tongue to slick back his bangs. They both shot away from each other when his father looked up, Sang-hyuk bowing his head as he stuttered out a quiet greeting.

His father ignored him as he headed straight to his office, the sound of the box slamming to the ground muted by the thick, hot air. Sang-hyuk started to turn to see what his father was doing when his mother quickly tapped his arm, clicking her tongue right when his father came back out.

“Go back to your room, Sang-hyuk,” he said brusquely as he passed by, giving neither of them another glance. Sang-hyuk wanted to say something, he and his mother sharing a look before she waved him away, returning back to the safety of the kitchen before his father had a chance to say anything else. Sang-hyuk wasn’t about to wait there alone, running back to his room and immediately climbing onto his bed, wanting to see what his father was doing.

He was mostly unloading the car, the tiny car stuffed to the brim with heavy boxes that his father struggled to carry. But that wasn’t what caught Sang-hyuk’s attention, his eyes fixed on the man still standing by the front of the car, completely still with his pale hands folded neatly in front of him. It wasn’t that there was anything special about him, or anything out of the ordinary; it was just that his father never brought anyone home, never allowed anyone to come anywhere near them.

No one could come.

No one could leave.

That was the rule.

So it was only curiosity that kept him at the edge of his windowsill, waiting to see what would happen, when the man suddenly looked up, catching his eye instantly. Sang-hyuk immediately ducked down, his heart hammering as his fingers grabbed bunches of his blanket and shoved them to his lips. Had the man seen him? His father shouldn’t be too upset if he found out, he had gone to his room like instructed, but Sang-hyuk couldn’t imagine he’d be very pleased if he found out he’d been watching.

He waited ten breaths before daring to peek out again, flinching but holding his ground when he saw the man still watching him. His father moved around the man all the while, not realizing they were staring at each other. Sang-hyuk grew bold under the man’s silent gaze, lifting his clammy hand to wave, his fingers wiggling uncertainly. The man mirrored him, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers, his face and body expressionless as he did so.

By dinner, Sang-hyuk was completely wound up, chewing on his bottom lip as he stepped into the dining room, the heart that had been beating furiously slowing when he saw the man wasn’t there. His father wasn’t either, and his mother was open as she shook her head, sighing.

“Your father said he’ll be late,” she mumbled, sending a quick glare to the closed office door. “So it’ll be just us for now.”

“Will that man be eating too?” he asked as he sat down across from her, feeling a little better when she sat down too. He really liked dinner time, at least when his father wasn’t there, feeling that bit less lonely when his mother was there with him.

“I have no idea. I’m just going to assume for now that he isn’t, and if he is then your father can deal with it.”

“Will he be okay with that?” They both paused at the question, neither saying anything even though they knew the answer. They both sat up, though, when the sound of a door opening echoed in the silent house, his father’s silhouette emerging from the dark hallway like a ghost, gliding around with a type of grace that Sang-hyuk secretly envied.

His mother’s eyes followed him too, her lips thin as she asked calmly, an affect she had perfected after years of trying to appear like a happy family for Sang-hyuk’s sake. Sang-hyuk had seen through the display years ago, though he never had the heart to tell her. “Hello, dear. Did you finish up for the night?”

“No.” They both instinctively jumped when his father dropped his plate onto the table, letting out a tired sigh as he sat down. Sang-hyuk and his mother shared a look before she asked again, her voice lilting in false cheerfulness.

“Is your friend going to be eating with us?”

“No,” his father snapped, looking up to glare at them, the light above only darkening the heavy bags under his eyes. “He’s never going to be doing anything with us. Don’t worry about him.”

“Then do you want me to leave something out for him later-?”

“ _No!_ ” His mother let out a small yelp when his father slammed his hand down, the whole table shaking. Sang-hyuk swallowed nervously as his hand on his spoon tightened, subconsciously scooting away. “Don’t do anything for him. He’s just going to be here for a few days to help me with work, that’s it. I don’t want either of you talking to him, do you understand me?” When neither answered he asked again, louder, rougher, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” they both responded immediately, going straight back to their food, eating quietly, avoiding eye contact. Sang-hyuk did peek up at his mother at one point, seeing her pause every so often to close her eyes, taking deep breaths as if trying not to cry. He hated seeing her like this, wishing he could do something for her, but knew that he would never be able to. He was too afraid, too small and scared to even think of standing up for her.

But when his father was gone and his mother ordered him to his room, speaking harshly and without even a hint of affection, he remembered why he would never try.

 

Sang-hyuk avoided leaving his room until absolutely necessary the next morning, listening to the muted sounds of his parents talking in the kitchen. He knew better than going in when they were alone, having had things thrown at him and the like when he tried. But he eventually grew hungry, his stomach growling and his secret stash of emergency snacks empty; so with clammy hands, he slowly opened the door.

He could see a small part of his mother’s back from around the corner of the hallway, a few tentative steps forward showing his father sitting at the table. He was so hungry, chewing on his bottom lip only doing so much as he fought with himself on what to do, in the end just standing there and listening. He normally didn’t listen to them when they talked to each other secretly, their conversations usually only about him; he slid to the floor, knees drawn under his chin when he heard his name muttered a few times.

He didn’t like the way they trapped him here, and hated when they would whisper about him as if he’d never come out and listen. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew what they were doing to him wasn’t right. But the one time he’d asked was also the last, and he would never do that again.

When he heard his father raise his voice and start pounding on the table, he knew what was going to be coming next, and immediately jumped to his feet before he could hear his mother scream. He flew into the first door he saw when he heard the first slap, not even registering the heavy atmosphere of the room as he slammed the door shut and pressed his palms to his ears.

Don’t think. Don’t listen.

Don’t think. Don’t listen.

Sang-hyuk recited the words his mother had instructed him to repeat in his head over and over until the sound of their fighting was gone, the sweat beading over his forehead dampening his knees. It wasn’t that he was scared of his parents fighting—they did that all the time. It wasn’t that he was afraid they would eventually come for him—they would never lay a hand on him. And it wasn’t that he was afraid of seeing his mother getting hit—he just closed his eyes until everything passed. He wasn’t sure what pushed him to hide away until everything was over, only knowing that the stress would never go away until he did.

He waited ten breaths before daring to pull his hands away, his back drenched with sweat and his breathing crushingly heavy. Letting out a long sigh, he glanced up to nearly another heart attack, finding the man from yesterday watching him. The man sat in a chair at his father’s desk, never having gotten up despite his back facing the door, only turning his head slightly so he could stare at Sang-hyuk as he cried. It wasn’t the staring that startled Sang-hyuk, or the fact he had been watching him that whole time, but the man’s piercing gaze that sent his heart in a frenzy.

He should be used to hard gazes—his father almost always glared at him—but this man’s was different. It was similar to his mother’s in a way, empty with nothing behind them except pure apathy. Yet there was something there that hinted at something more, that behind the emptiness was actually a whole world of passion brimming under a carefully concealed veil of indifference. The man never moved; he never blinked, never breathed, never gave any indication he even registered Sang-hyuk’s existence, yet it was that possible passion that caught Sang-hyuk’s eye and distracted him from hearing his father’s approaching footsteps, the door slamming into his back startling him back to reality.

“The fuck— _Sang-hyuk_?” Sang-hyuk scrambled away as he looked up at his father, forgetting all about the strange man and his eyes when his father flung the door open, flinching when it crashed against the wall. “What the hell are you doing in here, Sang-hyuk?”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize I came in here.” He rushed to his feet, subconsciously backing away until there was a safe enough distance between them. “Y-you and Mom were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt you but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do when-”

“That’s enough!” his father snapped, cutting him off before he could devolve anymore into his useless rambling. “You know better than coming in here.”

“I-I know, I’m sorry.” He bowed his head apologetically, praying he would let him by just this once. He inwardly noted to make sure never to go near the room again, to not even look in its direction if only he would let him by this once. He waited for his father to say something, eventually peeking up through the ends of his bangs to see his father wasn’t even looking at him, instead glaring at the man, his brows narrowed and his lower jaw jutted out in that way he did when he was considering exploding.

“F-father?” he whimpered, cringing when his father closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before exhaling loudly.

“Get out, Sang-hyuk. Don’t let me see you in here again.”

“Yes, father,” he said immediately, rushing out of the room as fast as he could, not stopping until he was safe in his room and buried underneath the comforts of his blankets. He pressed his face into his pillow, inhaling the wonderfully soothing scent of Hak-yeon, a small, bold part of him wishing it could be his friend himself that he was holding.

_When it gets to be too much, just hug this pillow and think of me. Give all your worries to this pillow, and then the next time you see me, you can tell me all about it._

It was only after a time had passed did he realize he was still hungry, sighing sadly as he only pressed his face further into the pillow. Looks like he wouldn’t be eating today.

 

It wasn’t until at least a couple days later that Sang-hyuk grew confident enough to come out when his father was still home, and the announcement that his father would be leaving for a couple days neither surprised nor hurt him. His father was extremely secretive about his work, never telling him or his mother what he did or where he did it at. Even when at home, he only worked in his office, refusing to let either of them come in. The most they’d ever gotten out of him was that he worked for the government, an answer that was almost as good as not answering at all.

But what Sang-hyuk did know was that his job required his father to leave randomly, the times never given in advance or the same. Sometimes he would be gone for a couple days, sometimes over a month. The only time Sang-hyuk was ever truly sure his father was home was when he saw him in the kitchen, or when he came to yell about how Sang-hyuk’s studies were slipping. Sang-hyuk used to be sad about the whole thing when he was younger, but now was so used to it that it was normal to walk in and see his father at the table after having been gone forever.

His mother placed Sang-hyuk’s breakfast in front of him after he greeted his father, that same empty optimism covering her face. “When will you be leaving?”

“Right after breakfast.”

“Will your friend be going with you?”

“No.”

“He hasn’t been eating, do you want-”

“Don’t do anything for him,” his father demanded, never looking up from his plate. “He’ll stay in the office while I’m gone, so don’t either of you go in there, understand?” Sang-hyuk wasn’t about to repeat what happened the other day, still remembering the sound of his father’s heavy voice, the way his eyes glowered; he would never go back in there. He agreed immediately.

His father didn’t stay much longer after that, leaving the second he finished eating. Sang-hyuk would never admit how the atmosphere of the room lifted the second the door shut behind him, both he and his mother letting out a sigh of relief. She turned to him, the smile she had kept up vanishing instantly.

“Finish up and then go back to your room. Make sure to stay away from his office.”

“I will,” he answered lightly, grinning. He could see the faintest hint of a smile on her lips before she turned away, and his mood brightened even further. He didn’t wait for her to finish before running back to his room, sliding to his knees as he dug out a box from under his bed, ripping off the cover and yanking out the towels to reveal a small flip phone. Checking over his shoulder reflexively, he grabbed the phone and jumped into bed, wrapping the blankets around himself until he was hidden in a cocoon of infallible security. A tiny giggle escaped his lips as he dialed the one number he knew, his heart racing when it didn’t even ring once.

_“Hyukkie!”_ the warm voice on the other end cried happily, and just the sound of it had goosebumps running down Sang-hyuk’s arms. He loved that voice.

“Hak-yeon,” he replied softly, just the sound of the name on his tongue making him shiver.

_“It’s been a while,”_ Hak-yeon continued, used to the long pauses when Sang-hyuk would have no idea what to say. He usually was so excited when he had the rare chance to call Hak-yeon that he really didn’t think of what he should say once he did. He once called and ended up never saying a word, just listening to the sound of Hak-yeon talking. He could never get tired of his voice. _“I thought you forgot all about poor me here; I’ve been so lonely.”_

“Sorry,” he said lamely, wishing he had a way he could tell Hak-yeon all about how much he missed him, how he held onto that pillow even when he wasn’t sad. But he never had as smooth a tongue as Hak-yeon, was awkward and uncomfortable and never able to say anything outside of a few short words at once. “My father’s been home.”

_“Oh, that’s okay, I know you could never forget me.”_ There was a short pause as Hak-yeon shifted, the soft crinkling sound telling Sang-hyuk how Hak-yeon was in bed as well. His blankets were new, still crinkled when they moved, and Sang-hyuk wished he could be there too. _“Do you know how long he’s going to be this time?”_

“No. But probably for a while. He seemed busy.”

_“Oh really?”_ He could hear Hak-yeon roll over, letting out a slight huff into the speaker as he did so, _“Then if I happened to be nearby, I could come visit and see my precious baby Hyukkie?”_

“I’m not a baby,” he muttered, though they both knew the real answer.

_“I’ll be over soon, my sweet, sweet, little baby,”_ Hak-yeon sang, letting out a happy laugh and hanging up before Sang-hyuk had a chance to whine again.

It took Sang-hyuk a second to realize the other hung up on him, though he didn’t move right away once he did. He instead let his fingers clinch at the edges of his blanket, pulling it up and pressing it to the embarrassed smile that grew on his lips, having to cover his face with his hands as he giggled to himself, kicking excitedly. It was so rare that Hak-yeon could come over, so rare they could ever see each other—he froze, whipping the blankets away as he realized that he had to change.

Sang-hyuk flew out of bed, checking the window to make sure his father was really gone before getting ready, wanting to at least look presentable when Hak-yeon came over. His appearance was one of the last things he thought about when he never left the house. He threw on the first thing he found and slicked his bangs back like his mother always tried to do to him, grumbling frustratingly when a few stubborn strands fell into his eyes no matter how many times he licked his fingers.

He didn’t wait for Hak-yeon to sneak outside, creeping by all the closed doors and running past the empty kitchen to burst through the front door, not bothering to put on shoes as he felt the soft tickling of grass blades against the bottoms of his feet. It wasn’t often that Sang-hyuk was able to come out like this, to feel the soft breeze flutter against his cheeks, the sun shining warmly from the top of his head to the ends of his toes. Letting out a small laugh, he fell to the ground, spreading out his fingers and letting the grass brush his skin, sighing contently. Without the constricting walls around him, the humidity wasn’t as bad, only resting in small droplets at the tips of his hair that trickled down his forehead, catching at his lips and running over his tongue.

He loved being outside.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, time always seeming to move by at its own pace no matter how he was feeling, when a strong breeze pushed him to open his eyes, blinking in surprise to see Hak-yeon sitting by his side, watching him affectionately. Hak-yeon’s smile widened when he saw Sang-hyuk awake, reaching out and pushing his messy bangs from his eyes.

“Hey there, little Hyukkie.”

Sang-hyuk blinked languidly, a happy smile making its way on his face as he secretly reveled in the feel of Hak-yeon’s hand in his hair. “How long you been here?”

“Not long. I saw you sleeping out here and didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Are you comfy?” Sang-hyuk nodded and laughed when Hak-yeon snorted. “Only you could roll around in the dirt and be comfy. I’m guessing your dad’s gone if you’re out here napping.”

“Yeah, he left about an hour ago.”

Hak-yeon hummed softly as he ran his eyes over Sang-hyuk’s body, his fingers lingering over Sang-hyuk’s arm. Sang-hyuk hesitated, wondering what was wrong, but the sad look was gone before he could even think, Hak-yeon laughing as he slapped Sang-hyuk’s side playfully. “Okay, while I would love to nap with you, I’m not about to roll around in the dirt. Come on, get up. Let’s go back inside.”

Sang-hyuk felt the grass between his fingers one last time before sitting up, a part of him he would never voice hesitant about going back inside so fast. He loved the outside. But he loved Hak-yeon more, so he only grinned excitedly as he let Hak-yeon help him up.

Hak-yeon was laughing as he slapped up and down Sang-hyuk’s sides fondly, at one point even squishing his cheeks. “Look at you, little Hyukkie,” he cooed, ignoring the way Sang-hyuk glared at him as he held his face, “you’ve gotten so big! You’re almost as tall as me!” He stretched onto his tiptoes as if measuring, his grin widening when Sang-hyuk was a little shorter. He smacked Sang-hyuk’s shoulder before pulling him into a warm hug, the feel of the sun overhead warming Sang-hyuk’s cheeks even more. “You’re not allowed to get any taller, you hear me? I’m older, I have to be taller.”

“Okay, Hak-yeon,” he said appeasingly, leaning over to bury his face in Hak-yeon’s neck, able to feel the following laugh rumble through Hak-yeon’s chest. No matter how many times he glared, argued, or shoved, he absolutely loved how touchy Hak-yeon was.

Hak-yeon was the one that eventually pulled away, taking him by the hand and leading him inside. He had always been the stronger of the two, the one to put himself in harm’s way first to make sure it was safe. He was the one to stand up to Sang-hyuk’s father to defend him. He was the one who forced himself into an uncomfortable dinner, ignoring his mother’s empty stare, just to make sure Sang-hyuk was okay. He was the one who, without fail, would sneak over to Sang-hyuk’s room just to give him company. He was, he was, he was—Hak-yeon was everything, and Sang-hyuk followed along silently, holding his hand and watching his back.

Sang-hyuk could never be strong enough to do any of those things, but he would always be there to follow as Hak-yeon did them for him.

“It’s always so hot in here,” Hak-yeon whined as they made their way back to Sang-hyuk’s room, collapsing onto the bed in a ball of ripe indignation. “One of these days I’m going to end up dying of heat, and it’s going to be all your fault. Look, I’m already sweating!” Hak-yeon shot up and wrapped his arms around Sang-hyuk’s waist, yanking him to the bed and wrapping his limbs around him tightly. Sang-hyuk couldn’t help laughing as Hak-yeon rubbed his face into his cheek, rolling around playfully. “It’s going to be all your fault, Han Sang-hyuk, do you hear me?”

“T-that’s what y-you get for being full of hot air,” Sang-hyuk managed to squeak out, snorting embarrassedly when Hak-yeon bit lightly into his side in retort.

“How ungrateful,” Hak-yeon grumbled back, his lips still pressed against Sang-hyuk’s side. “Don’t even care if I die.”

“Of course not.” Sang-hyuk shoved Hak-yeon’s face away. “Even if I died, I could never get rid of you.”

“Nope!” Hak-yeon piped up cheerfully, climbing over so he could lay comfortably on Sang-hyuk’s back. He knew how much Sang-hyuk loved it. “No matter where I go, I’m going to drag you with me.”

Sang-hyuk paused. “…promise?”

Hak-yeon smiled, his hand reaching out to interlace their fingers together. “I promise.”

 

It was some time later before either of them moved, the two of them openly enjoying the feeling of each other pressed warmly together. Hak-yeon never pulled their hands apart, their fingers locked and soft, and Sang-hyuk never wanted to let go. There were times like now, with the sound of Hak-yeon’s breathing blowing against his ear, that he wished he was born into Hak-yeon’s family, where times like these weren’t rare but every day. That would make him the happiest.

He tried to ignore how hot it was underneath Hak-yeon, tried to focus on the feeling of their hands together or the sound of Hak-yeon’s soft snores, but when he felt he was going to explode from heat he finally wriggled his way out. He bit back a chuckle when Hak-yeon let out a long whine, rolling over. “What are you doing?” Hak-yeon mumbled, swatting uselessly at Sang-hyuk’s back.

“You’re hot. I had to move.”

Hak-yeon didn’t deign that with a response as he sat up with him, rubbing his eyes before letting his hands find their way into Sang-hyuk’s hair. Sang-hyuk loved it. “How’ve you been? Your dad’s not too mean to you, right?”

Sang-hyuk shook his head. “No. He’s the same.”

“But how have you been? You haven’t messaged or called me in over three months-”

“He’s been home for a long time.” Hak-yeon pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. Sang-hyuk felt bad. “I wanted to call you.”

That brought the smile right back, Hak-yeon’s fingers moving down to pinch lovingly at his cheeks. “I wanted to call you too, little Hyukkie. I missed my baby so much.”

“I’m not a baby,” he muttered, though made no move to push him away. Hak-yeon opened his mouth, was probably about to rattle off more cheery annoyances, when a muted thud echoed throughout the hallway.

 

There were so many times Sang-hyuk wished they hadn’t heard that noise. There were times when he imagined what it would’ve been like if Hak-yeon had just cooed a little longer, squeezed his face a little harder—everything would’ve been fine. They would never have known.  
…but as much as he would like to fool himself, he knew they would’ve found out eventually. No matter what they did, they would’ve been drawn in and tainted, the pure simplicity behind that wonderful, summer morning ruined by everything that followed after.

 

They both froze at the sound, Hak-yeon immediately straightening as his hands fell protectively to Sang-hyuk’s shoulders. Sang-hyuk’s eyes were wide as he turned his head to look, trying to think of what the sound could be. His mother never made any noise when they were alone, so there was only one other thing it could be. Hak-yeon gathered him in his arms, his grip tight.

“Is someone else home?” he asked, voice serious.

“It might be my father’s friend,” Sang-hyuk whispered quietly, remembering the blank stare and wiggling fingers. “He’s in the office.”

“Your dad brought someone else home?”

Sang-hyuk nodded, eyes trailing down. “He left for a few hours and brought someone else home. He took the man into his office.” He paused. “He never came out.”

“So, is he still in there?” Sang-hyuk nodded. “And he _never_ came out?” Hak-yeon’s hands slowly trailed away as he crawled off the bed, it taking Sang-hyuk a few seconds to realize what he was intending to do. Sang-hyuk jumped down after him, grabbing his hand and yanking him back as hard as he could, shaking his head intensely. Hak-yeon nearly growled. “Sang-hyuk-”

“You can’t go in. We’re not allowed.” He yanked again when Hak-yeon tried to move, dropping to the floor like a child in order to hold him still. This was not a time for Hak-yeon to be brave and go into this without thinking. This was a complete stranger that they had never seen before and knew nothing about. There had to be a reason why they couldn’t go in, and he didn’t want Hak-yeon to try and do something that wasn’t safe just for him.

Not this time.

“This isn’t right, Sang-hyuk. If there’s someone—a _stranger_ —in your house, you have the right to know who it is. Just because your father said you can’t doesn’t mean you don’t have the right.”

Sang-hyuk still refused to move. “You can’t. You can’t.”

Hak-yeon sighed, taking Sang-hyuk’s hands and holding them softly. “Alright. I’ll stop. But can I at least check to see if he’s okay?”

Sang-hyuk almost couldn’t comprehend. “But we can’t-”

“You heard it too, something fell. He could need help. Can I at least go in to see if he’s okay? If he is, then I’ll leave and we can forget all about it.” Hak-yeon rubbed his thumbs over the back of Sang-hyuk’s hands, softening his expression until only a sweet, gentle smile was on his lips. It was so distracting, Sang-hyuk could barely think let alone stop him. His hands loosened enough Hak-yeon was able to pull away, making sure to give the top of Sang-hyuk’s head a quick kiss before going straight to the office.

Sang-hyuk wasn’t far behind him when Hak-yeon opened the door, his curiosity getting the best of him as peeked in. The man was sitting in the exact same spot as last time, his back to the door, though this time he didn’t make any attempt to turn to look at them. He did a quick sweep of the room to see that nothing seemed amiss, nothing on the floor and the room impossibly neat. There was nothing that could have made the noise itself. Not unless the man fell over or anything.

“Hello,” Hak-yeon called out casually. His hand grabbed Sang-hyuk’s shoulder when the man didn’t move. “I heard you moved in here. It’s nice to meet you.”

The man still didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge them, and Hak-yeon took a step back. Sang-hyuk didn’t move. “We heard something fall and wondered if you needed help. Are you okay?” They waited a few seconds and Hak-yeon was ready to leave, moving to shut the door.

“Wait,” Sang-hyuk hissed, tentative fingers tugging on Hak-yeon’s arm.

“Sang-hyuk-”

“He didn’t answer yet.”

"He didn’t answer because he wants to be left alone. Maybe we can ask another time.” It made sense and Sang-hyuk agreed, watching with that niggling curiosity as the door was shut and the man hidden again. Despite the way Hak-yeon dragged him away and promised he wouldn’t go back, he couldn’t help but wonder if the man had made that noise they heard earlier. He was curious, still had that innocent curiosity. He wanted to ask him, to make sure he was alright…

…and he wished he didn’t.


	3. Unaffected

When Sang-hyuk felt a warm hand trail over the edge of his jawline, he, for just a moment, imagined himself still curled under Hak-yeon’s body, so content. He wished he could stay there forever. As the hand moved along with the faint sound of a chuckle, he never wanted to open his eyes again as he leaned further into the touch. However, with each passing second the strong memories from his dream faded and reality set in, cruelly reminding him that wasn’t possible. The hand moved down to rest gently on his neck, the bed shifting beside him.  
  
“Sang-hyuk, you need to wake up. Your breakfast is getting cold.”  
  
“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled tiredly into his pillow. He could hear a stifled laugh and he cracked an eye open to glare balefully at Hak-yeon grinning down at him. Just the sight lessened his exasperation drastically, the sweet, fading memories of how much he loved Hak-yeon from his dreams bittersweet. Now the only thing that filled him was a tired mixture of guilt and detachment that barely managed to get him through the day.  
  
Hak-yeon seemed to sense Sang-hyuk wasn’t going to get up, slapping his shoulder lightly. “Come on Hyukkie, I already let you sleep long enough. You’re going to be late for work.”  
  
“Don’t care.”  
  
“Han Sang-hyuk-”  
  
“No,” he whined, shoving Hak-yeon away and hiding under the blankets. He was completely wide awake at this point, something they were both very aware of. “Go away.”  
  
Hak-yeon rolled his eyes but laughed all the same, making all kinds of noises as he clambered on top of Sang-hyuk, squishing him gently. “I’m not about to let you skip work on my watch, so if you don’t get up, I’m going to just lay here and annoy you _all day.”_  
  
“But-”  
  
“No buts.” Hak-yeon wriggled his arms out from under him and pulled the blanket down enough to see Sang-hyuk’s eyes, chortling as he blew in his face. “Don’t think I won’t do it.” His fingers crawled up until they were tucked under Hak-yeon’s chin, poking Sang-hyuk’s cheeks and tickling under his nose. Sang-hyuk tried to roll over but Hak-yeon swiftly locked his legs on either side of him, holding him prisoner to this horrible torture. Hak-yeon was freely laughing now, and honestly so was Sang-hyuk, Hak-yeon leaning over to nibble playfully on Sang-hyuk’s ear. “Just think, all you gotta do is get up.”  
  
“Go away, Hak-yeon,” Sang-hyuk tried to snap, though a snort escaped his lips when Hak-yeon made a spitting sound against his neck.  
  
“No, you have work and I’m not about to let you skip. Get your lazy butt up.”  
  
“I don’t wanna! Please don’t make me…” He tried to distract Hak-yeon behind the cutest pout he could muster, trembling his lower lip for effect, and he could tell it worked. Hak-yeon paused for just a second before slapping his mouth lightly, pinching his nose.  
  
“That’s not going to work. I’m going to reheat your breakfast, and you better be up and dressed by the time I come back. If not I’m going to drag you out.” Hak-yeon didn’t wait for an answer before leaving, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Sang-hyuk knew Hak-yeon would make good on his threat, so after the door was shut he begrudgingly rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a loud thump. He knew he still had more than enough time before he had to leave; Hak-yeon always woke him up extra early, _exactly_ for this reason. Sang-hyuk hated waking up, hated going to work, hated life in general; though the world continued to rotate regardless and Hak-yeon was not about to let him rot away in bed. So, with a heavy heart, he untangled himself from his blankets and made his way to the bathroom, getting ready in record time only so Hak-yeon wouldn’t tickle him again.  
  
Hak-yeon was all over him the moment he opened the door, fluttering around to make sure he was dressed appropriately and his hair was cleanly done. Sang-hyuk had nearly walked out of the apartment in his pajamas on more than one occasion if not for Hak-yeon, so as annoying as it was he allowed Hak-yeon to worry all he wanted.  
  
“I reheated everything, though the eggs are kinda mushy now. You really should’ve gotten up when I told you to.” There was a pout in the other’s voice that Sang-hyuk only snickered at, ignoring Hak-yeon’s glare as he sat down and started eating. It was true the food was squishy and gross, but it would’ve been like that regardless if he woke up now or earlier. Not that he would ever tell Hak-yeon that.  
  
“Are you going out today?” Sang-hyuk asked instead. Hak-yeon didn’t seem to mind the topic change much, shrugging.  
  
“Probably. We’re running low on food and I need more lip balm. Do you need anything?” When Sang-hyuk just shook his head, he leaned forward, that cute smile on his lips. “Hey, what time will you get out of work? If you can come home early, maybe we can go eat somewhere together. How does that sound?”  
  
Sang-hyuk paused with food halfway to his mouth at the suggestion, automatically thinking of different ways he could say no without upsetting him. Even after all these years, Hak-yeon still hadn’t completely figured out the rules, didn’t realize that Sang-hyuk wouldn’t be able to get him a pass to go out shopping _and_ go out for dinner. It was enough of a hassle just for one, let alone two, and he knew there was no way they would approve it.  
  
“Sorry Hak-yeon, I probably won’t get back till late. Don’t wait up for me and just make yourself something small.” He gave a placating smile when he saw Hak-yeon’s face fall, the guilt welling up inside only adding to all the feelings he suppressed on a daily basis. He hated making Hak-yeon sad. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I can see if I can get an early leave tomorrow, and then we go somewhere really nice. How’s that?”   
  
“That would be great! But don’t get yourself in trouble if you can’t. I’m always here, so don’t worry too much.” Hak-yeon paused, already regretting saying anything, and the conversation was cut short by the awkward silence that followed. Sang-hyuk couldn’t look Hak-yeon in the eye as he put his finished plate in the sink, grabbing his coat to leave when a hand gently pulled at his elbow.  
  
He refused to look up when that familiar hand cupped his cheek, Hak-yeon’s lips hovering over the side of Sang-hyuk’s chin. “I’m sorry baby, you know I didn’t mean that.” Sang-hyuk sighed and Hak-yeon knew he was forgiven, kissing his cheek sweetly. “If you want, I can still make you something. If you like. I can have it waiting for you.”  
  
“No, it’s okay.” He stifled a cough when he leaned down slightly to rest his head on Hak-yeon’s shoulder, Hak-yeon’s hand instinctively coming up to rest on his back. “I…I have a lot to do today, I really won’t be back till late. Don’t wait for me.” He could feel the disappointment emanating off Hak-yeon in waves, though this time Hak-yeon didn’t say anything about it.  
  
“…okay. Just be careful, coming home so late.”  
  
Sang-hyuk snorted as he pulled away. “I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”  
  
“I beg to differ.” Hak-yeon’s hand slowly let go of its grip on Sang-hyuk’s elbow, now pushing him gently. “You better get going, or you really will be late.” Sang-hyuk nodded slowly, giving Hak-yeon one last hug. He hated leaving.  
  
He hated a lot of things.  
  
  
It was times like these when he was thankful the lab was right around the corner, giving him no time to think of anything as he walked through the front door. His parents, Hak-yeon, Hong-bin…there were reasons he purposefully refused to remember any of those times, and he hated when his dreams didn’t allow him that.  
  
There were a few people lingering in the lobby when he walked in, blowing past them without so much as a small greeting. As much as Hak-yeon, and Won-shik, unfortunately, tried to get him to change, Sang-hyuk absolutely loathed people, and if given the option would avoid them altogether. Honestly if it weren’t for Hak-yeon he probably would live in the bunkers downstairs just for the convenience.  
  
With a quick flash of his ID he passed through the doors without a second glance, going straight for the elevator and disregarding a woman shouting something at him as he hurriedly pressed the doors closed. He realized belatedly that she probably had been calling out to wait for her, but he really could care less even if that were the case. He didn’t feel like standing in an elevator for thirteen floors with someone else.  
  
The elevator ride was a lot shorter than he would’ve liked, letting out a long sigh when the doors clicked open. He hated the bare walls, the dreary atmosphere, the vacant stares everyone gave him as they turned to see who arrived. Despite the hundreds of people who worked here running around every day making as much noise as possible, the place always felt so quiet. Everything was clean, immaculate, and nothing was ever out of place, person or otherwise. It gave a feeling that always dampened Sang-hyuk’s mood the moment he stepped through the elevator doors, reminding him of who he was and what he was doing. Not that he could ever forget.  
  
He eventually made his way over to the break room, his mind wandering as he mindlessly logged himself into the system. The lab he was assigned to ran over three floors, rooms upon rooms in the deceptively endless building holding everything his life revolved around. The majority of his work was on the second floor, only leaving to the others when working with Sung-jae or checking on the test subjects. His office, that he avoided like the plague, X39, T52, and the testing labs were all here, so on most days he didn’t need to really go anywhere. He liked that.  
  
He flinched, something he would never admit, when he felt an overly friendly hand slap down on his shoulder, groaning as a low, heavy laugh rang obnoxiously in his ear. “Well hello there, little Hyuk. A little late today, aren’t we?”  
  
Sang-hyuk didn’t look at the annoying offender as he stuffed his ID in his pocket, sighing. “Shut it, Won-shik.”  
  
“Oh, look at that sass.” He shot a glare when Won-shik playfully pinched his cheek, not that it did anything. It never did. “What happened to that cute little boy who would always listen to me? He was so cute.”  
  
“He stopped when he realized you were always talking out of your ass.”  
  
Won-shik’s laugh bellowed off the walls, following him around like a dog as Sang-hyuk left the room, swinging an arm around his shoulders. The sight of the two together wasn’t anything new, most people merely walking around them without even looking up. While it was never openly announced, everyone knew Sang-hyuk was Won-shik’s favorite, the latter always coming around to bother Sang-hyuk when he could. Sang-hyuk had learned to ignore the majority of it at this point, barely even noticing the parasite latched to his side as he walked.  
  
“You working with X39 today?” Won-shik asked. “Heard it finished its tune-up last night.” Sang-hyuk only hummed in response. “They already put out a list of things you need to check just in case.”  Sang-hyuk hummed. “It’s already in its file.” Sang-hyuk hummed again, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Won-shik slapped his shoulder playfully.  
  
“Would it kill you to even say something? I might as well be talking to a wall.” Sang-hyuk only shrugged his shoulders, a small smirk on his lips when Won-shik only huffed at him. But like he guessed, Won-shik continued to follow.  
  
“Where are you going? You passed X39’s room.”  
  
“I have to go see Joon-myeon first.”  
  
“Wait, what? Why?” Won-shik caught Sang-hyuk’s wrist and held him back, his normally teasing eyes furrowed in an appearance of genuine concern. Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure when Won-shik became concerned about him, or actually cared enough to be worried, but it felt nice. In this lifeless lab, it was always nice to feel…nice. “Did something happen?”  
  
“No. Hak-yeon wants to go shopping, so I have to get it approved.”  
  
Won-shik’s concern shifted to general annoyance, letting him go with a roll of the eyes and a long groan. “Why do you let him go out so much? It’s so much work for everybody—why not just keep him at home?”  
  
“No,” Sang-hyuk cut in firmly, glaring. “If he wants to go out, I’ll let him. I’m not going to force him to do anything.” Sang-hyuk refused to be like his father, keeping Hak-yeon locked inside all day. He had already forced his friend to do so much for him, he would never force him to do anything more. If he wanted to go shopping, he’d let him. If he wanted to go see a movie, he’d let him. Even if he wanted to just go out for a walk, Sang-hyuk would let him. It didn’t matter if people ridiculed him behind his back; he would continue to do it, if only to make Hak-yeon happy.  
  
Won-shik knew there was no use arguing, shaking his head but letting the subject drop. “I know, I know, you and your precious Hak-yeon. I just can’t understand you. But whatever, you wanna do overtime go right ahead.” Won-shik gave a quick glance down the hall where Joon-myeon’s office was, faking a shiver. “I’ll see you later.”  
  
Sang-hyuk waited until Won-shik was long gone before stopping outside Joon-myeon’s office, pausing before knocking softly on the open door. Joon-myeon whirled around from where he was filing papers away with a smile, his relaxed posture doing nothing to ease the nervousness building in Sang-hyuk’s stomach.  
  
“Ah, Sang-hyuk! Come in.” Joon-myeon hurriedly sat down and motioned for Sang-hyuk to do the same, clearing away the loose papers spread across his desk. Sang-hyuk knew those papers held more information than he could even dream of imagining, so instead waited until he was done before sitting. Joon-myeon didn’t acknowledge his hesitation, just continuing to smile when he finally sat down. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Are you coming to get Hak-yeon’s shopping trip approved?”  
  
Sang-hyuk couldn’t help the involuntary flinch at the mention of Hak-yeon’s name, pursing his lips as he gave a small nod. He should be used to Joon-myeon knowing everything by now, shouldn’t be surprised when he was already aware of Hak-yeon wanting to go out. But he wasn’t, and never could be. No matter how many times Joon-myeon smiled or talked kindly to him, he could never erase the image of that imposing shadow from his memory, scaring him to submission. While he was like that to everyone at first, Sang-hyuk had already been weak at the time, so the terror had stuck with him.  
  
Even now.  
  
“Is he just going shopping? I know sometimes he likes to go to the park for a walk.”  
  
Sang-hyuk swallowed, watching as Joon-myeon filtered through a stack of papers to pull out the approval form. “No, he said he’s only going to shop.”  
  
“That’s great! Hak-yeon sometimes goes to the strangest places to sight-see, it’ll be interesting to see where he goes this time.” Sang-hyuk’s fingers tightened around the fabric of his pants, his shoulders stiff as he allowed Joon-myeon to talk all he wanted. After years of working here, and dealing with almost everything one would have to deal with, Joon-myeon was one of the few things he was still wary about. The friendly way he acted was much scarier than if he sat there and yelled at him, his casual appearance hiding away everything and anything he could be thinking. Sometimes he did wish Hak-yeon went out a little less, if only so he wouldn’t have to come here so often.  
  
“Okay,” Joon-myeon said finally, signing off the bottom of the form. Sang-hyuk pressed his thumb next to it as his signature, biting his lip. “So he’ll be all safe and happy for the trip, don’t worry. We’ll take care of him.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.”  
  
“No problem. It’s always nice for us, getting you to work overtime. I’m not sure where exactly we’ll need you at the moment, so I’ll probably let Won-shik assign it to you later. I know you two are close.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Sang-hyuk nodded, keeping his eyes down.  
  
“But while I have you here, you can give me your progress report. You haven’t filed yours yet.”  
  
“I-I’ve been busy. I was going to do it today.”  
  
Joon-myeon nodded, resting his chin on his folded hands as if thinking. That damn smile was still on his face. “Right, Hak-yeon’s been sick.” That was true, and Sang-hyuk had been so, so afraid. It made it worse when he still had to go to work, unable to get a day off like Hak-yeon begged him to. Joon-myeon knew this, and the smile there only showed how much he enjoyed it. “You’ve been leaving right on time the past few days. Your work’s been slipping.”  
  
Sang-hyuk’s eyes snapped up to see Joon-myeon staring right at him, the smile gone and his folded knuckles white. There was no joking now, nothing to hide the seriousness behind the situation. He had to tread lightly here. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I can stay late for as long as you need me to, to finish everything. I can even do all X39’s tests today, if you want me to.”  
  
Joon-myeon leaned back into his chair, nodding away like everything was completely fine. Sang-hyuk hated that. “You don’t need to do that, even though it would be nice. Just stay a couple hours for the next few days to show your commitment, and you’ll be fine. Though you can tell Hak-yeon that it’ll be a while before you can go out for dinner. Who knows the next time when you’ll be free enough for that.”  
  
Sang-hyuk gave no reaction as he stood up and bowed slightly, thanking his boss before nearly running out of there. It wasn’t until he was far away from the higher-up offices that the heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders faded, finally allowing him to breathe. He hated, hated, _hated,_ that room, _hated_ that man, and no amount of fake smiles and cheery words could take that away. He ran back to the break room to grab a glass of water, gulping the liquid as fast as he could to try and hide the way his fingers shook, his breathing tense.  
  
He didn’t realize how long he stood there, fingers clasped around the empty glass, when another hand touched his shoulder, this time much gentler.  
  
“Hey…you doing okay?”  
  
His fingers loosened almost instantly, Sang-hyuk smoothing away the worry from his features until he could look Sung-jae in the eye. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need a minute.”  
  
“I saw you coming back from Joon-myeon’s office. Everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah…just had to get an approval form signed.” He left out Joon-myeon’s hidden threats, deciding it best not to worry the other further. A lopsided grin grew on Sung-jae’s lips, his hand squeezing Sang-hyuk’s shoulder.  
  
“Is Hak-yeon feeling better then?”  
  
That caused Sang-hyuk to pause, placing the cup on the counter to distract himself. “So…even you knew?”  
  
Sung-jae pulled away apologetically. “Pretty much everyone knew. Joon-myeon was getting really upset at how you kept leaving right on time. We were all really hoping Hak-yeon got better—how is he now?”  
  
“Oh, he’s fine. You wouldn’t even know he was sick, he wrestled me out of bed and forced me out the door. I didn’t even get to sleep till my alarm.” That broke the awkward atmosphere, Sung-jae snorting as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.  
  
“You know, I don’t know many roommates that would wrestle someone out of bed. Are you _sure_ there’s nothing going on between you two?”  
  
Sang-hyuk rolled his eyes. There were very few people he was able to do that with; he was really thankful to have him. “I already _told_ you, there’s nothing going on. That’s just the way he is.”  
  
“And you’re saying you’d let just anyone crawl on top of you and tickle you till you got out of bed? Not to mention all the cuddling—”  
  
Sang-hyuk hurriedly cut him off with a sharp smack to the side, glaring uselessly. “There’s nothing wrong with that! And of course I wouldn’t let anyone do that. Hak-yeon is just different.”  
  
“And that difference isn’t anything special? Come on, just admit it. Everyone already knows.” Sung-jae started poking him as Sang-hyuk quickly walked away, grinning excitedly. “Sang-hyuk-”  
  
“No. I’m not going to waste my breath when you refuse to believe me. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he shoved Sung-jae out of the way, “I have to do X39’s checkup.” That was enough to stop him, Sung-jae biting his lip to stop while moving back enough to give him room. It was a fact everyone who worked here knew, that even with the small respites that allowed them time to joke, work was the priority that came before everything else. No one would ever stop or ask why, only following along with their heads bent low and feet always moving.  
  
It was too bad Sung-jae ended up working here. He was too bright for a place so dark.  
  
  
X39 was waiting for him the moment Sang-hyuk opened the door, the technicians having placed him on the bed earlier. It was something that always secretly amused him, how they insisted they were all just machines and yet continued to supply the room with the basic human necessities. A bed, a mirror, a desk, a bookshelf filled with picture books; if someone looked in without any knowledge of what was going on, it would appear as a regular bedroom. It was mainly for aesthetics, yes, but their insistence on making them appear human did amuse him.  
  
He let out a soft sigh as he made his way over to desk, nonchalantly flipping through the status reports lying on the desk. His fingers paused on the stack of forms he was supposed to fill out. “How are you today, Hong-binnie?” he asked, sneaking a quick glance at X39 when there was no answer. His eyes immediately fell on the thick cable plugged into his chest, his lips pursing at the sight. Of course there would be no answer; not when he was charging. He went over to the monitors placed next to the bed and ran his finger over the screen, clicking his tongue when he saw the other to be fully charged.  
  
“Time to wake up,” he sang mostly to himself, his fingers expertly clasping around the base of the charger, one hand braced against X39’s back. He hesitated briefly as his eyes ran over X39’s body, taking in the sight before he had to turn him on and start his day. X39 wasn’t very talkative to begin with, nor did he do much, so it wasn’t the other’s current stillness that uneased him. There were many times Sang-hyuk had to wait next to the other while shut down. There was just something about X39 that affected him more than the others, more than anyone.  
  
He ran his hand through X39’s soft hair, thoroughly cleaned and styled beforehand, his fingers tracing down to the tip of his chin. The skin felt soft, real, so unlike the synthetic one they developed. He dreaded the day they decided to replace all his skin. “Good morning, Hong-bin,” he whispered before detaching the charger with one swift motion.  
  
Instantly X39 shuddered, the programmed startup settings kicking into gear. Sang-hyuk grabbed the status report and quickly sat in the chair, wanting to appear ready and alert when X39 woke up. He watched as something flashed in X39’s eyes, a soft blue glow that faded to human brown ones, each joint cracking and creaking as he moved his limbs this way and that. It was so inhuman, so strange, yet it was so familiar Sang-hyuk actually felt eased by it, slapping on a small smile as recognition finally shined in X39’s eyes, hands coming down to rest on his knees in approval.  
  
“Good morning, sir,” came out X39’s soft voice, so small and sweet, unbefitting of a cyborg.  
  
It took Sang-hyuk a second to respond. “What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’, hmm? Just call me Sang-hyuk.”  
  
He could see the information being saved, X39 freezing to process his words that he had done many times before. All the small things Sang-hyuk taught him on the side were always wiped when he went through any company-assigned tune-ups. It was more annoying than anything; yet a small, still human, part of Sang-hyuk was still able to feel sad about it.  
  
“I see, I am sorry. Good morning, Sang-hyuk.”  
  
“That’s better. You better not let me catch you doing that again,” he joked, mustering up the happiest grin he could to show he wasn’t serious. Yet X39’s only reaction was an apology, expression nothing more than a blank stare. Sang-hyuk’s smile disappeared, noting down that X39 still was not able to register joking. He looked up, making sure to maintain eye contact. X39’s eyes shifted to watch him, the only thing that moved as his body sat immobile. “How have you been?”  
  
“I am fine.”  
  
“Are you really?” The question caught X39 off-guard, a brief pause before the answer.  
  
“I am fine.”  
  
“Okay, just wanted to make sure.” He wrote down a few more things before he placed the clipboard down, leaning forward as he pressed his fingers against X39’s open chest cavity. Cold metal met his fingertips, the bundle of wires and lights that kept X39 functioning humming silently. He knew that beneath the metal was a sensitive battery that powered everything, replacing the heart that had once steadily beat, and Sang-hyuk wondered briefly what it would have been like to see that. It probably wouldn’t be worth it.  
  
“We can close this for now,” he said gently, closing the doors and clicking it shut, leaving only an expanse of synthetic skin that almost looked normal. He picked up the spare shirt he kept in the desk drawer, never able to leave the cyborgs naked like the others. “Here, put this on. You must be freezing.”  
  
“I do not feel cold like you.” Yet he slipped the shirt on anyway, the soft cotton catching briefly on his ears. It was so human-like, so normal. He couldn’t count how many times he’d seen Hak-yeon do the same thing, hearing the latter grumble about the effort. He had to shake his head to keep focused, swallowing heavily.  
  
“Yeah, but _I_ feel cold just looking at you.” He waited to see X39’s reaction, and added to his list when X39 only stared. “Now let’s get the easy tests out of the way, those won’t take too long.” He grabbed out his penlight, shining it in his eyes and watching the way the eyes didn’t dilate. He poked the eyeball and hummed when the eye didn’t blink, X39 only sitting obediently for him. No changes there.  
  
He went through the simple vision and hearing tests, finding no changes. He ran his hands over the other’s skin, waiting to see even a hint of a flinch or a response to the physical stimuli, but like always, there was nothing. No changes there. Everything was pretty normal, nothing different from the tune-up save for the new battery and clean skin. Sang-hyuk liked these tests; they were simple and required no thinking or caution. He wished they could be longer. But they weren’t, and soon he and X39 were staring at each other in silence.  
  
Now for the less exciting part.  
  
“Okay, I need you to lift your left arm up, right to your shoulders.” X39 immediately did so, holding his arms out without so much as a shift in weight, the arm so still. It didn’t bother Sang-hyuk though, too focused on checking the joints. He helped X39 through the routine, bending the arm at the elbow and listening to the soft creaks that came along with it. He frowned, sighing softly. He’d probably have to schedule getting a replacement soon. “Do you feel anything pulling when you bend your arm?”  
  
“No.” He watched as X39 lifted his arm above his head, the shoulder joint catching briefly. Yes, he’d have to get that replaced soon. He wasn’t sure how this wasn’t fixed during the tune-up; how annoying. “I am sorry.”  
  
Sang-hyuk didn’t look up as he ordered the cyborg to stand up, hands on X39’s unmoving hips as he watched him turn at the waist. “For what?”  
  
X39 leaned back at the waist, his eyes never leaving Sang-hyuk’s face. “My arm is not perfect.”  
  
“Oh, that’s not your fault. It’s whoever’s lazy ass did your tune-up. But we’ll get that all fixed up.” He kept a hand on X39’s chest as he had him lean forward, deciding the choppy way he moved was good enough. At least there was no creaking. “Now reach down and touch your toes. Let me see how your shoulder moves.” X39 did as told, his shoulder popping out of the joint for just a second before settling back in place. It was unsettling to say the least, watching the grotesquely disjointed movement, and Sang-hyuk was really starting to wonder how it passed through. “God, sometimes they’re so goddamn lazy down there. You’d think they’d be more careful with you, since you’re so special and all. Here, move your arm in a circle, let me see.”  
  
Again the shoulder popped, and again it settled in place.  
  
“I am sorry.”  
  
“Stop apologizing.” Sang-hyuk felt along the edges of the shoulder, the skin over the slight dip where the arm connected with the chest cavity squishing under his fingers. He was used to the feel of the synthetic skin and how fake it felt, but there were still times when it actually squished around that his stomach still flipped. “Okay, I found where it’s having the problem. I’ll put it in and they’ll hopefully have you fixed up by tomorrow. Why don’t we finish up the rest to see if anything else is wrong.”  
  
He thoroughly checked through the rest of X39’s limbs, working through his hip and leg joints to see if there were any problems. Luckily there weren’t any, Sang-hyuk falling back into his chair with a loud groan. He hated doing checkups, mainly because he wasn’t really qualified to figure out if anything was wrong. It was only times like these when the technicians really fucked up that he could find something. He groaned again.  
  
X39 watched him, his hands back on his knees. “I am sorry.”  
  
Sang-hyuk leaned back so he fell against the backrest of his seat, rolling his head over to glare at the other. Not that X39 was capable of understanding what a glare was. “Why do you keep apologizing?” When the other didn’t answer save for repeating his apology, Sang-hyuk realized that more might have been affected from the tune-up than just the arm. “Hey, are you okay?”  
  
“You have already asked me that question.”  
  
“What?” Sang-hyuk sat up, brows furrowing. “I did?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“When?”  
  
“You asked how I have been. I said I am fine.” There was flicker of something in X39’s eyes that was gone as quickly as it appeared, the eyes following the way Sang-hyuk turned his chair to face him fully.  
  
“But I didn’t ask that way. How is it the same question?”  
  
“You are asking for the same answer.”  
  
“But they are asking for different things. Even though the answer is the same, there’s a difference. You believe it is the same thing?”  
  
“Yes.” Sang-hyuk frowned, chewing on his cheek as X39 stared at him, expressionless. Ever since Sang-hyuk was assigned to X39, to keep track of his improvements and work through the kinks, the ability to improve and expand had disappeared. Nothing ever changed, his processing capability stunted. Even something as simple as this, to realize ‘how have you been’ and ‘are you okay’ to be the same type of question was a huge improvement.  
  
What changed?  
  
“Okay, sorry if I asked the same thing. But you are acting differently today. Did they mess with something while fixing you up?” There was no response, not that he was really expecting one. Open-ended questions like that always tripped X39 up, left him unable to figure out what the correct response was. Sang-hyuk honestly should know better. “Okay, sorry, yeah, that probably confused you. Here, what did they do to you?”  
  
“Changed battery. Replaced skin. Upgraded system-”  
  
“Wait, they upgraded your system?” Sang-hyuk hurriedly skimmed over the status report, frowning even further when there was no mention of any upgrade. Without another word he opened the compartment on X39’s left arm, plugging it into his computer. X39 watched all the while, not forced to shut down when only connected through his arm. “Do you know what kind of upgrade it was?”  
  
“To improve mental capacity.”  
  
“That doesn’t tell me much,” he grumbled mostly to himself as he scrolled through the list of updates, most of it an unintelligible mess. He hated when they changed things on him like this without telling him, especially now when they didn’t let him know afterward. How was he supposed to improve anything when they secretly changed things on their own? “Okay, what changes were made to your brain?”  
  
“To better hold memories. To better processing human language. To better connecting the brain to nerve receptors.” Sang-hyuk paused, glancing forlornly at X39’s hands and remembering just earlier the test for touch failing. Looked like that didn’t work.  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
X39 didn’t answer, and Sang-hyuk was about to assume nothing else was done when he spoke up again, a waver in the voice catching his attention immediately. “Could you…tell me the story?”  
  
“The story?” Sang-hyuk asked in surprise, the shock almost catching the words in this throat. X39 was not capable of asking questions, of even speaking, without being approached first. Even then, the questions it could ask were only ones that involved something it could see physically. But to ask for something that didn’t end with a simple yes or no, to ask for something that would result in Sang-hyuk doing something _for_ him, was beyond his ability.  
  
In all the years he worked with him, X39 never asked such a thing before.  
  
He realized X39 was still waiting for an answer, and Sang-hyuk slowly ran his fingers over the keyboard as he carefully fell back into his chair. He mulled over what exactly to say, still stuck on the fact he asked a question, eventually drawing out, “Which story, X39?”  
  
“The little boy. The one in the woods.”  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded his head, hurriedly trying to understand what was happening without giving anything away. “Do you like that story?”  
  
“Like?”  
  
He backtracked. “Do you want to hear it, right now?”  
  
“Yes.” Silence followed, the only sound filling the silence being the slight beeping from the computer as it continued to scan through X39’s system. Sang-hyuk glanced around reflexively, having to remind himself that the subject rooms were not audibly bugged. Something was wrong…and it had nothing to do with the tune-up.  
  
“Ah, well…I don’t think we’ll have time for that today.” X39 stared at him, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable. “They gave me a list of things to do today, and I need to let them know you need your arm fixed-”  
  
“I understand. Do not mind, Han Sang-hyuk.”  
  
Sang-hyuk waited a whole minute before realizing X39 was not going to say anymore, his following behavior as Sang-hyuk continued back to normal. He wanted to continue thinking something was wrong and follow through with it, to question him more and figure out what it was exactly. But as he unplugged X39’s arm and finished through the progress report, that desire lessened until there was nothing left. He could just say it was a blip in the radar, just a quick slip due to the messy updates they gave him. He could easily say there was nothing wrong, was perfect save the arm.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as his hand lingered on X39’s head, the cyborg already shut down and unable to hear him.  
  
It was easier that way, simple; nothing bad would come his way and he could go home with no worries hanging over him. As bad as that was, he had no problem with it.  
  
He hated himself.  
  
  
It was already late when he finally emerged from X39’s room, rubbing his eyes as he went off to send the notification to get the cyborg’s arm fixed. Time always flew by when he went in that room, the day seeming to pass around him in a blur that left him feeling as if it had only been a minute. It was good, didn’t let him think too much about anything else. He always had too much on his mind. And yet, it made him sometimes wonder where that time went, feeling his life slipping through his fingers and having absolutely no power to stop it.  
  
“Finally finished, are we?”  
  
He barely turned his head to see Won-shik leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watched Sang-hyuk file the notification. Sang-hyuk stiffened, his shoulders bracing when he heard the dangerous tone in the other’s voice. He didn’t know why Won-shik was currently cold, the man’s mood swings sometimes unexpected, but Sang-hyuk knew not to disregard it.  
  
He kept his voice level. “It took a while. His shoulder joint was broken, so I ordered it to be fixed.”  
  
Won-shik didn’t say anything as he pushed off the wall, coming closer as if to see if he was telling the truth. Sang-hyuk kept as straight a face as he could, knowing he had nothing to hide, staying still until Won-shik finally stepped back. “Was anything else wrong?”  
  
“Not that I could find. His movements around the waist were a little choppy, so those parts might have to be replaced soon.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll let Joon-myeon know. You know the technicians won’t do shit unless you explicitly tell them.” A lazy smile finally appeared on Won-shik’s lips, the air of caution still running thickly through the air. It was stifling, and Sang-hyuk was just starting to wonder if they figured out X39’s strange behavior, or that he didn’t tell them, or if they were tired of him never having results and just offing Hak-yeon, when Won-shik suddenly slapped his shoulder playfully. Sang-hyuk jumped, painfully ripped from the darkening depths of his mind, and Won-shik snorted. “There you are. I can still make you jump if I try hard enough.” Won-shik laughed alone, immensely enjoying the sight of Sang-hyuk uneasy.  
  
Sang-hyuk purposefully didn’t answer, annoyance and anxiety filling him with no escape but through the animosity of his glare. That only seemed to amuse Won-shik even more. “You’re so cute when you try to glare. You have the voice and face of a baby; you’ll never be scary, unfortunately.”  
  
Sang-hyuk did his best to ignore him. “Did Joon-myeon tell you what I need to do?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. He said to just go help feed the test subjects and record their progress.” Won-shik reached up and tickled the tip of Sang-hyuk’s chin, a gesture that wasn’t as scary now that Sang-hyuk was taller, but still just as taunting. “Nothing too hard.”  
  
Sang-hyuk swallowed as he kept the disinterested tone he normally used, keeping his glare and hiding his tight fists behind his back. “I see. Thank you.” Whatever it was about his expression made Won-shik laugh again, patting Sang-hyuk’s head like a child before walking away without another word. Sang-hyuk watched him go, holding his breath until he was long gone before finally releasing a stifled sob that echoed loudly down the empty hall. It was strange, and random, but it was all the more Won-shik.  
  
No matter what, Won-shik still knew how to work Sang-hyuk, was still able to slide through the wall of disinterest he tried to keep up and leaving him a heaving pile of emotions he couldn’t even begin to handle.  
  
He could feel himself slowly falling apart as he made his way downstairs, the edges fading as the indifference he hid behind crumbled. He knew there was a reason Joon-myeon and Won-shik sent him downstairs, and it wasn’t because they wanted to be nice. It was the first time in weeks he was going there, usually avoiding the place as much as he could because he was absolutely terrified of it. They knew he was scared, and sent him down there any time they wanted to punish him.  
  
He felt a small part of him chip away each time one of the interns down there waved at him, or bowed. He couldn’t stand looking at the lines of human sized tubes on the tables running across the room, the little window on each allowing him to see all the people hidden inside. Every face reminded him these were real people, that they had family and friends who were worried about them. And each face only reminded him that these people would never wake again, would never be the same again.  
Because it was his job to break them down and rebuild them, to put them back together, regardless if some pieces were missing.  
  
“Is that you, Hyuk?” Sang-hyuk looked up from where he was loitering by the door to see Sung-jae grinning at him, fingers wrapped around an IV bag connected to one of the tubes. Sang-hyuk sent a small wave in response, watching as Sung-jae excitedly handed the bag to an intern to run over to him. There were flecks of blood on Sung-jae’s cheek and spots of food mixture on his coat, but Sang-hyuk tried to ignore all that as he did his best to smile back. “Did they assign you here? Are we going to work together?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m supposed to help you feed the subjects.”  
  
“So we are working together!” Sung-jae moved to grab his hands but stopped short when they both saw the blood on his fingers. Sung-jae gave a nervous laugh as he quickly shoved his hands in his pockets, instead gesturing with his head to follow. “We actually were ahead of schedule, so most of the subjects were already fed. The interns are recording the progress, so you don’t have to worry about that. You can help me finish feeding, and if we’re quick we could even sneak out early.”  
  
“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Sang-hyuk joked, and Sung-jae laughed happily, the sound chipping another piece away.  
  
“You know why they keep me down here; I’m the fastest when it comes to feeding! I can get everything done by the time it takes you to even feed one.”  
  
It was true, but it didn’t make him feel any better. “That’s good then. You can do all the work and I’ll just watch.” It took Sung-jae a second to register what he said, giving a good-natured whine as he handed Sang-hyuk a coat and rack of IV bags.  
  
“I wish you worked down here. It would be so much more fun then.” Sang-hyuk didn’t say anything as he followed, Sung-jae going back to the intern he left. The girl stared at them with wide, innocent eyes as she quickly passed the bag back as if it burned her. Sung-jae didn’t seem to notice, or more likely ignored it, thanking her cheerfully and continuing as if he never stopped. “You can start on the next row. You should remember how it works, right?”  
  
Sang-hyuk caught the eye of the intern, the girl looking so pale and small and familiar, and he hurriedly looked away as he went to do as told. He wanted to be done with this as fast as possible, to get away and hopefully never have to come back. Not that it would ever happen. “Yeah, I remember,” he mumbled. Sung-jae snickered behind him, the jarring sound of the bag clip snapping echoing in Sang-hyuk’s ears.  
  
“I don’t know why you don’t come down here more often. You actually help me and you’re fun to talk to.”  
  
“You know why,” Sang-hyuk muttered as he went to the closest tube, switching out the IV bags and checking to make sure the subject was being fed. There have been times the IV didn’t work, and the subject died. Joon-myeon was always extremely angry when that happened.  
  
“Yeah, but you don’t have to give the shots, you could just help me feed them and go through the reports. That can still be fun.” Sung-jae’s voice was light and happy, just asking for Sang-hyuk to talk with him. But he couldn’t. He knew it was rude, Sung-jae only trying to make small talk, but he just couldn’t. He was having a hard enough time already just being down here.  
  
He grabbed the next IV, his hands jumbling as the bag caught on the latch, and his eyes fell on the window of the tube. He froze, his breath short.  
  
A young girl stared back at him, her face peaceful as the drugs they filled her with forced her into a deep sleep. She didn’t look much older than himself, her hair billowing around her like a pillow. She was so small, so pale; his fingers gripped the bag so tightly they went numb, trying his best to empty his mind so he wouldn’t start imagining what she would look like if she was awake and smiling. Even if he wasn’t the one that gave the shots that put these people in this position, he couldn’t ignore how at least half weren’t here willingly. He couldn’t imagine how this girl ended up here.  
  
Cold fingers suddenly rested on his own, and he blinked up to see Sung-jae next to him, for once his expression serious. “You can’t look. It’ll only hurt you.”  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded sadly, tore his eyes away from the sleeping girl to fix her IV and make sure everything was fine. “…she’s so young.”  
  
“That’s why you can’t look. It’ll only make it worse.”  
  
Sang-hyuk knew that, and was usually pretty good about forgetting. It was just those times when he remembered that felt like a thousand needles stabbing into his heart.  
  
  
It was well into the night when he finally stumbled home, his eyelids heavy and his body shattered. Without even a second thought, he went immediately to Hak-yeon’s room, quietly peeking inside to see him sound asleep. The sight calmed Sang-hyuk’s nerves, Hak-yeon’s profile softly illuminated by the nightlight he insisted on using, his skin glowing. He watched the subtle rise and fall of Hak-yeon’s chest, making sure he really was alive before finally backing away and leaving him alone.  
  
He flicked the kitchen lights on to see a small plate of food on the otherwise clean counter, a small note placed beside it. Tears wetted his eyes as he sat down, smiling wistfully at the dinner Hak-yeon left him despite telling him not to. He always took care of him, always put Sang-hyuk before himself. There were times he felt he wasn’t good enough for such love, and there were times like now where he reveled in the feel of it. His eyes landed on the note, his fingers running over the small piece of paper.  
  
_Make sure you eat! Don’t stay up too late!_  
  
A chuckle escaped him at all the smiley faces littered over the note; he loved Hak-yeon, he really did. He was so much more than a friend, so much more than even a boyfriend or lover. He was Sang-hyuk’s guardian, Sang-hyuk’s closest confidant and companion; he was the parent and brother he never had, the friend he always dreamed of having, the voice of reason he never developed himself. He was everything and anything, and no amount of Sung-jae or Won-shik teasing him would ever change that.  
  
Especially when it was his fault Hak-yeon was here in the first place.  
  
He didn’t bother changing or washing up before just going to sleep, feeling every bit the small child as he climbed into bed with Hak-yeon. It wasn’t often he did this, wasting no time burrowing his face into Hak-yeon’s neck, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him close. Hak-yeon shifted, his eyes blearily blinking open to look down at him, groaning softly as he immediately rolled over to hug him back. Sang-hyuk basked in the attention.  
  
“You home, Hyukkie?” Hak-yeon asked, words slurred. His hand moved up to tiredly run through Sang-hyuk’s hair. He sighed at Sang-hyuk’s lack of response. “So late…”  
  
“I told you I’d be working late.” Sang-hyuk pulled Hak-yeon even tighter to himself, laughing softly when the other let out a small grunt.  
  
“Did you eat? I left you dinner.”  
  
“I did. Thank you.”  
  
“Anything for you, Sang-hyuk.” Hak-yeon sleepily kissed Sang-hyuk’s forehead before falling back asleep, his hands falling listlessly by his side. Sang-hyuk didn’t move right away, listening to the sound of Hak-yeon’s heartbeat and feeling tears decorate his cheeks at the soothing sound. He laid there, holding the only thing he loved in the world, wishing he could give him everything without constantly lying behind a false smile. The things he did, the things he does; the blood on his hands was always dripping, always following, and he wished he could touch Hak-yeon without feeling like he was staining him.  
  
But of course, even if he knew, Hak-yeon would still forgive him, still love him, and Sang-hyuk truly felt he didn’t deserve him.  
  
“Thank you, Hak-yeon,” he whispered gently into Hak-yeon’s ear, closing his eyes and feeling all the crumbling pieces of himself slowly mold back together under the warm hold of Hak-yeon’s embrace.


	4. Misgiving

The soothing sound of pans clanging in the crisp morning air were what woke Sang-hyuk the next morning, his drowsy mind trying to remember where he was. It was so bright; he had to blink repeatedly before his eyes adjusted, squinting to see the curtains pulled back, the window open and allowing the sweet sound of birds chirping to flutter in. He normally would’ve been confused, wondering who opened the window since it wasn’t allowed, but he was still so sleepy he could only smile sappily at the sight. Everything was warm and sunny; Sang-hyuk pulled the blankets up to his lips and smiled, the foreign, happy feeling creeping along from his chest all the way to the tips of his toes.  
  
Another loud smash of pans broke through his reverie, reminding him what exactly woke him up, and Sang-hyuk scrambled out of bed. His father shouldn’t be back yet, and his mother rarely cooked him anything when he was gone. He was just starting to wonder who was in the kitchen when he skidded to a stop at the edge of the hallway, peeking around the corner to see Hak-yeon hurriedly cleaning up a scattered pile of pots and pans off the floor. Sang-hyuk couldn’t help the small giggle, and Hak-yeon’s head whipped around, his surprise turning to fake annoyance.  
  
“What are you doing, laughing at me? At least come and help, you little brat.”  
  
Sang-hyuk laughed again as he shuffled over to help, easily picking up the rest of the pans to put in the sink. He could hear Hak-yeon muttering and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help himself. “What were you doing anyway? How is it possible to knock everything to the floor?”  
  
“You brat,” Hak-yeon snapped nonthreateningly, his cheeks tinted pink as he lightly knocked Sang-hyuk’s head. “Here I’m trying to be nice and make you a nice, warm breakfast and you tease me like this. I’m hurt.”  
  
“You’re cooking?” Sang-hyuk asked excitedly, lighting up when Hak-yeon smiled down at him.  
  
“Yes, so go sit down while I finish up. Don’t want you to get in the way.” Hak-yeon pinched his cheek before herding him to the table, making sure he sat down before turning back to the stove. Sang-hyuk shamelessly watched Hak-yeon’s back as the other attempted his best at cooking eggs, squeezing his lips together happily as his fingers twisted in his lap. He hoped one day he could have a back like Hak-yeon’s, with shoulders straight and an aura that made it comfortable to lean against. He wanted to be just like Hak-yeon.  
  
He diverted his eyes when Hak-yeon came back to place the finished plates on the table, giggling at the smiley face drawn on his egg with blueberries. Hak-yeon laughed with him. “You have such a cute smile, you should smile all the time.”  
  
“I will,” he promised dismissively, hurriedly picking up one of the face’s eyes and eating it, giggling again at the face Hak-yeon made.  
  
“You little brat, fine, go ahead and eat. Don’t appreciate my wonderful cooking.” Sang-hyuk let him wallow in his self-pity as they fell into a peaceful silence, only the gentle sound of silverware clinking interrupting. Sang-hyuk took a bite and smiled at how terrible it tasted, wondering how Hak-yeon could mess up something as simple as an egg. But then he never enjoyed Hak-yeon’s food for the taste, glancing up to see Hak-yeon smiling at him, and his whole face flushed with delight.  
  
Sang-hyuk hovered by Hak-yeon’s side as the latter washed the dishes, trying his best to help despite Hak-yeon’s insistence not to. He really wished time didn’t move so fast whenever Hak-yeon came over, wished it could stop completely so he never had to worry again. Hak-yeon always left right after breakfast whenever he came over, never daring to stay any later than that, and Sang-hyuk was absolutely not ready for his friend to leave him so soon. He stood by Hak-yeon’s side as the other finished the last of the dishes, and without a word latched his arms around Hak-yeon’s chest.  
  
“Sang-hyuk?” Hak-yeon asked gently, doing his best to pat Sang-hyuk’s back without getting him wet. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I don’t want you to go.” Sang-hyuk’s voice hitched slightly.  
  
Hak-yeon sighed, drying his hands on a nearby towel before hugging him back, kissing the top of his head. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t. Who knows when your dad will be home, and I don’t want to get you in trouble.”  
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
“Yes, you do.” Hak-yeon’s voice was soft as he cupped Sang-hyuk’s cheeks, his palms gentle as they ran over Sang-hyuk’s dry skin. “But you know I’m always here. If he doesn’t come home, you can always send me a text. I’m always willing to talk.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes flitted to the small scar above Hak-yeon’s eyebrow, swallowing all the protests he wanted to scream so badly. He knew there were reasons beyond mere concern that pushed Hak-yeon to leave so quickly, and Sang-hyuk had no place to ask any more of him. Not that that still didn’t hurt him.  
  
When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, Hak-yeon tilted Sang-hyuk’s chin up so he could look him in the eye. “Okay?”  
  
“Okay…”  
  
“That’s my baby.” He ignored Sang-hyuk’s forced protests of how he wasn’t a baby to pull Sang-hyuk’s hands off his sides, pressing them together. “I’ll always be here. And remember, if your father’s friend does anything or anything happens, you let me know right away.” When Sang-hyuk only nodded, staring down at their hands sullenly, Hak-yeon laughed. “Don’t frown, your face will get stuck like that.”  
  
“No it won’t,” he snapped back reflexively, and the two finally relaxed, chuckling. He allowed Hak-yeon to lead him to the front door, watching sadly as the latter slipped on his shoes. Sang-hyuk pressed his cheek against the cool plaster of the wall. “You’ll be okay going home, right?”  
  
“Of course. It’s so great I can drive now. Don’t have to wait for those lazy maids to come get me.” Hak-yeon turned and placed one last kiss on Sang-hyuk’s forehead. Sang-hyuk loved being kissed. He couldn’t remember the last time either of his parents kissed him. He wasn’t even sure they knew how.  
  
It was only once Hak-yeon was gone that Sang-hyuk let his knees finally buckle and allow him to slide to the floor, the closing door behind him speaking as the final goodbye. Now alone, the house felt bigger and colder than ever, the shining sun doing nothing to warm anything. With his mother nonexistent and his father gone, there was nothing to remind him he wasn’t alone. It wasn’t the first time this happened, and it definitely wasn’t the last, but it was a feeling that was only viciously compounded whenever Hak-yeon came over.  
  
When he was finally able to get up, he went to his room and immediately closed the window, stiffly pulling the curtains closed. It was a more familiar setting, seeing the room shaded in a dusky glow with any opening to the outside world hidden. The small patch of grass he rolled in was nothing compared to what was beyond that, and after years of being hidden away was something he couldn’t even imagine. Hak-yeon was his only link to that world, and it was only through him that he dared to let any of it in. Without him, he would have nothing.  
  
His fingers caught on the tattered end of his curtain, a small ray of sunshine peeking through, and Sang-hyuk’s eyes lingered on where his father’s car had been. His father’s friend, the one who stared at him and waved, was the first new person Sang-hyuk had met in years. It wasn’t the fact that the man came to the house that aroused the growing curiosity in him, but was how his father hid him away too, insisting no one go to see him.  
  
Hak-yeon had told him for years that the way his parents treated him was wrong, told him how his being hidden here was bad. A part of Sang-hyuk knew that, especially when seeing how free Hak-yeon was to go wherever he wanted, but he really didn’t know any better. So he had never felt an urge to go beyond what he knew, was okay with where he was. But with this new man, his father’s friend…. A slowly churning feeling in the pit of his stomach began to urge him forward.  
  
What would this man think?  
  
Being kept away like this, was the man like him? Would he stay with them forever, like himself?  
  
He wanted to ask.  
  
To know.  
  
He haltingly left his room and made his way over to his father’s office, pausing at the door, his fingers brushing the doorknob. He had been raised to never enter the room, to stay away and not even _think_ of going near it. Just being this close already filled him with a sense that he was doing something wrong. He wondered briefly if he should just leave the man alone, remembering the way the man ignored him and Hak-yeon when they tried to talk to him yesterday. But then…Sang-hyuk hated being alone, and he couldn’t imagine the man would be perfectly happy that way.  
  
So, worriedly, tentatively, he opened the door.  
  
The man was sitting in the exact same position as yesterday, his back to the door as he stared out the window. He made no indication he heard the door open, not even a twitch in his shoulders when Sang-hyuk knocked on the doorframe. “E-excuse me? A-are you…busy?”  
  
No answer; Sang-hyuk pursed his lips as he very slowly stepped inside, the soft carpet spreading flush against his foot in a kind of warning. The office was the only room with something as luxurious as carpet, despite the many times his father complained about it, and Sang-hyuk felt slightly jealous.  
  
“W-we came yesterday.” He took another step forward, shoving his shaking hands in his pockets. “You made a noise.”  
  
Nothing. Sang-hyuk eventually mustered up enough courage to cross the rest of the room, peeking over the man’s shoulder and his eyes narrowing in confusion. The man’s eyes were open, his gaze vacant as he stared out the window, but it wasn’t that that confused him. No, it was the thick cable plugged into the man’s chest, a chest opened by two little doors that revealed a completely metal casing underneath. Sang-hyuk’s eyes ran down the cable to see it plugged into a little machine, the machine whirring along silently. He frowned at the sight, wondering if there was something wrong with his heart that he had to have a machine plugged into him. It made sense; he’d caught his mother secretly plugging her arm into something similar once, and she’d told him it was because her arm had a problem. He wondered if the man was similar. He felt bad if that was true.  
  
“Hello?” he asked, his frown deepening when the man only continued to stare ahead, as if unable to hear him. “Are you okay?” He looked back at his father’s desk to see if there was anything to help wake the man up—he yelped when his foot caught on the cord, tripping and hearing the distinctive pop of a plug ripping out from the wall right after. He whipped his head around to see the machine shut off, looking up nervously to see the man suddenly blink, shuddering as his eyes flashed awake. He crawled back when the man’s shoulders snapped upward, his joints cracking as his arms and legs choppily moved around.  
  
It was a minute before the man stopped, his hands coming to a rest on his knees and his shoulders settling. He blinked again, eyes looking around as if waking up, eventually noticing Sang-hyuk on the floor. The man’s eyes narrowed, just a slight twitch of his brow.  
  
“I-I’m sorry,” Sang-hyuk stuttered, scrambling to his feet, “I didn’t mean to unplug your machine thing or anything.” The man’s eyes flickered over to whatever it was Sang-hyuk had unplugged, the rest of his body completely still. Sang-hyuk felt a small shudder run through him.  
  
“You do not need to apologize,” the man said quietly, his voice soft despite how sharp his gaze was. “I no longer need it.”  
  
Sang-hyuk watched as the man pulled the cable out of his chest, the small lights that decorated around the hole flashing briefly. He could feel his stomach clench when the man closed the two little doors, hiding the metal behind what looked to be normal human skin. The man ran his fingers down the crease between the doors before looking back up at him, his face still expressionless. “Are you uneased?”  
  
Sang-hyuk immediately shook his head, not wanting to be rude. “N-no. I just…are you okay? Did I…did I hurt you?”  
  
“No. I do not feel pain.” The man paused for a short while, blinking slowly. Sang-hyuk wished the man would smile or something, feeling his skin begin to crawl at the way his gaze seemed to pass right through him. It reminded him too much of his parents, so distracted by their own thoughts they forgot he existed. He hated being reminded, was ready to run away and pretend he never came in here when the man suddenly tilted his head, letting his eyes run down the length of Sang-hyuk’s body, the motion choppy and awkward. Sang-hyuk wondered if it was because the man was stiff from sitting all day.  
  
A barely audible hum rumbled through the man’s lips. “You were the boy in the window.”  
  
It took Sang-hyuk a second to understand, nodding his head shyly. “I…my father doesn’t bring people here.” He swallowed. “A-are…are you his friend?”  
  
“Friend is not the correct term.” The man’s head was still tilted as his hand slowly reached up to take Sang-hyuk’s, his thumb brushing over his fingers. His skin felt strange, slimy, similar to the way sweat would create a thin coat over Sang-hyuk’s skin when it was humid. But it was still morning, no humidity in the cool air, and nothing in the room should be making his hands feel the way they did. “You; you live here?”  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded, unable to say anything and instead stared down at their hands. He noticed the man’s were different colors, his right lighter than his left. Without asking to make sure it was okay, Sang-hyuk took the man’s other hand, imitating him and brushing his fingers in the same way. They felt different, one considerably less slimy and strange feeling than the other. He wondered if the color had anything to do with it. “I live with my parents.”  
  
“Mmm,” the man hummed, seemingly having no issue with Sang-hyuk holding his hands. “Are you not afraid?” Sang-hyuk stopped, finally looking up and feeling his breath catch in his throat at the intense glare the other levelled at him, swallowing when the man brought Sang-hyuk’s hands to his chest, allowing their fingers to trail down the faint crease. Everything was slimy, the feeling lingering on Sang-hyuk’s own skin, goosebumps erupting across his hands and up his arms until his whole body felt cold with a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. The man’s gaze never lightened. “Does this not bother you?”  
  
“Y-you…you’re scaring me…” Sang-hyuk’s voice trembled, yelping when the man pulled Sang-hyuk’s hands down into his lap, easily catching him when Sang-hyuk fell into his awaiting arms. This was wrong, _different_ ; Hak-yeon was the only one who ever really touched him, and even then, it was always gentle, always kind. There was something different behind this man’s touch, something latent waiting to spring as his fingers clasped around Sang-hyuk’s sides, adjusting him so their eyes were level. Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped.  
  
“What scares you? This?” He placed Sang-hyuk’s fingers against his chest, purposefully sticking them in between the fleshy doors.  
  
Sang-hyuk curled his fingers away, shaking his head. “N-no.”  
  
“This, then?” He trailed his palm across Sang-hyuk’s cheek, as if to wipe the slime on him.  
  
Sang-hyuk shook his head again, wishing he could speak.  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“Y-your…hands.” The man’s brow furrowed again as his hands settled on Sang-hyuk’s sides, and Sang-hyuk took the opportunity to pull his hands away. He hoped the man wouldn’t make him touch him like that again.  
  
“What about them?”  
  
Sang-hyuk struggled with what to say, extremely aware of the way the man’s hands tightened every second he stayed silent. It was so different, so unlike what he knew and was used to—he shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut. “It hurts.”  
  
“Hurts?” The man’s hands abruptly disappeared, and Sang-hyuk snapped his eyes open to see the other pulling away, almost as if afraid to touch him. He must have looked as confused as he felt, the man bowing his head. “I did not mean to hurt you. I am sorry.”  
  
“N-no, that’s not…” Sang-hyuk groaned as the words he wanted to say refused to come out, his brain a terribly jumbled mess. “I didn’t…no, it’s not you. I just…” The man waited patiently for Sang-hyuk to finish. “I’m not used to touch. Yours hurts.”  
  
“I see. Then, does this scare you?” The man’s hand was back on Sang-hyuk’s face, but the touch was so light he could barely feel it. Sang-hyuk stayed perfectly still as he watched the man trace his nose and flick at his bottom lip, eventually holding his chin. It was so gentle, such a stark difference from before, that Sang-hyuk didn’t know what to say. The man hummed. “If I touched like that, does it hurt?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“I see.”  
  
The man adjusted Sang-hyuk to sit more comfortably on his lap, his hands resting on the side of Sang-hyuk’s thighs, and Sang-hyuk felt his face flush. He had imagined once doing this very same thing with Hak-yeon, but had always been too afraid to try and ask. To suddenly be doing it with a stranger filled him with burning embarrassment.  
  
Wanting to hurry and distract himself from his quickly swirling thoughts, he asked, “Does…does my father keep you in here?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Does he let you go out at all?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Not even to eat? I…I’ve never seen you eat anything.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then…aren’t you hungry? Or lonely?”  
  
“No. I do not have the need like you do.”  The man’s voice was serious, his gaze unwavering, but Sang-hyuk was sure he could hear a break in his voice. There had to be; he could not believe there was someone who could sit in this room and not be lonely, to have no problem never leaving or eating or seeing another human being. There just couldn’t…because if there was, if it was really that simple, then what did that make himself?  
  
“You don’t have to lie,” Sang-hyuk whispered slowly, hesitantly reaching out and holding the man’s slimy hand again. “It’s okay to say it…that you’re lonely.”  
  
Sang-hyuk watched the man’s hand shift to take his instead, his touch soft. “Are you lonely?”  
  
Sang-hyuk’s responding nod was so small, he wasn’t even sure the man could see it. “My father keeps me here…to be safe.” He shivered despite not being cold at all. “Is he…is that why he’s keeping you here too?”  
  
“No. My safety has none of his concern.”  
  
“Then why?”  
  
“For something you do not understand.”  
  
Sang-hyuk snorted, having heard that line from his father so many times it actually made him laugh. “Of course. Everything’s for work.” Sang-hyuk attempted to get up, annoyed, when the man’s hold suddenly tightened, his fingers digging into Sang-hyuk’s thighs to keep him still. He winced openly, looking up to see the man glaring again, his stiff posture telling to how dangerous the situation had become, the blistering wounds forming on his legs screaming at him to run away. He tried to push off the man’s chest to get away, crying out when nails started to dig deeper. “Stop! That hurts, let go!”  
  
“What is your name?” Sang-hyuk barely heard the question, slapping at the man’s hands to try and loosen his grip. It did nothing. “Your name, what is it?”  
  
“S-Sang-hyuk!” he finally whimpered, promptly tumbling to the floor when the man immediately let go. Nothing on the man’s face gave away what he was thinking, Sang-hyuk looking up only to meet unsympathetic eyes. His legs still burned, and his heart was hammering against his chest; he crawled back until his back hit the wall, unable to gather any strength to stand up. Staring at this man, he realized there was a reason for his father’s rule, to never let anyone in.  
  
“Sang-hyuk.” The man’s eyes flashed, a spark of blue that Sang-hyuk was convinced he imagined through the pain. “Han Sang-hyuk.”  
  
“Y-yes.” He turned his attention down to his legs when the man said nothing in return, biting down on his lip when even a mere brush against the fabric of pants sent waves of pain through him. He wasn’t sure if the man managed to break skin or not, everything too numb and painful to figure out now, but he knew it would continue to burn for hours.  
  
It was some time before he was able to roll over on his knees, attempting to stand up when a hand landed carefully on his arm, helping him. Sang-hyuk flinched away, nearly falling over again to see the man standing next to him, extremely tall and imposing as he stared fiercely. His reaction didn’t seem to faze the man at all, continuing to follow him and pull him to his feet.  
  
“Thank you,” he mumbled, refusing to look anywhere but the floor as the man hovered a little too closely.  
  
“You are in pain.” Sang-hyuk looked up to see the man staring down at his legs, nothing on his face giving anything to the concern supposedly in his voice.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I did it to you.”  
  
“…yes.” The man leaned forward slightly, his back cracking as he did so, to finger Sang-hyuk’s thigh, his touch now as light as before. It didn’t do much when it still caused his legs to burn, Sang-hyuk at a point where his confusion was beyond comprehension, so he only stood still and let the man do what he wanted. There was probably a better chance he wouldn’t end up hurting him if he just stayed still. The man’s small frown deepened.  
  
“I am sorry,” he said as he pulled away, his back cracking again as he stood straight, his hands falling carefully behind him. Neither of them moved for a long while, the warming summer air filtering through the small cracks between the curtains, each passing second filling with an overwhelmingly oppressive silence. Hundreds of thousands of thoughts swirled through Sang-hyuk’s head, trying to keep himself level by staring at the small ray of light that spilled out across the floor, the smell of dry summer heat mixed with plaster familiar and comforting.  
  
Every second he stared at the man’s uncovered chest, eyes caught on the faint crease of the flesh-covered doors, he wondered if had made the right choice, coming in here. No one could come in, no one could go out; that had been his father’s rule that until now Sang-hyuk had never dared to disobey, save for Hak-yeon. While he had grown up severely sheltered, he knew what was right and what was wrong, knew that the way this man moved and behaved was wrong. This man, who would grab and hurt him and make him touch him strangely; he was everything his father warned him about rolled into one.  
  
And yet…  
  
…watching this same man apologize softly, acting almost shy, reminded him so much of himself he wasn’t able to immediately shut himself away. He seemed so much like himself, so awkward with words and apprehensive around any touch that went beyond intimacy—he ripped himself away from the bubble they had formed together, stumbling towards the door. His legs burned with each step and his heart hammered dangerously in his ears, but he didn’t pay them any attention.  
  
Was this what he would have been like, if he hadn’t had Hak-yeon to help him?  
  
Would he have been that rough; that disregarding?  
  
He didn’t want to think about it.  
  
It was a mistake coming in here, curiosity be damned. There had been a reason his father told him not to come in, and he now was paying the price for doing so anyway.  
  
“Will you come again?” the man’s soft voice murmured, the question stopping Sang-hyuk briefly at the door, a hand catching him on the doorframe.  
  
He never answered, the click of the door shutting behind him slicing coldly through the air.  
  
  
 _“So, he didn’t come home?”_ Hak-yeon’s voice asked softly, the sound distorted through the small speakers of Sang-hyuk’s phone. Sang-hyuk hummed as he laid his head down on his folded arms, his fingers playing with the corner of his textbook. His father hadn’t come home that night, and while that usually wasn’t enough reason to muster the courage to call Hak-yeon, he felt he needed to hear the familiar voice, feel something comforting after today. His legs still burned when he moved them wrong, and shivers ran through him when he thought of that man’s heavy eyes; he wished Hak-yeon could be here right now, kissing away his pain and making him feel safe and warm.  
  
 _“You know,”_ Hak-yeon continued patiently, talking enough for the both of them, _“you’ve gotten so big. My baby is growing up.”_  
  
“I’m not a baby,” he grumbled, frowning playfully when Hak-yeon laughed.  
  
 _“You’ll always be my baby, whether you like it or not.”_ He could hear the sound of something clinking on the other end, no doubt the sound of Hak-yeon trying to cook himself something. He wondered why Hak-yeon’s family employed maids if they were never there, but then Hak-yeon hated them so it probably made sense. After a couple minutes, Hak-yeon’s voice came through again. _“What are you doing right now, anyway?”_  
  
“Just doing my homework,” he said, grabbing his pencil and poking disinterestedly at the paper in front of him. He could hear Hak-yeon make a disapproving sound on the other end, and sighed softly.  
  
Hak-yeon never cared for the way Sang-hyuk’s father taught him, keeping him from public schools and insisting on homeschooling him…which was really Sang-hyuk just self-teaching himself while his father worked away in his office. Hak-yeon didn’t go to school either, but he at least had a tutor that came every weekday to teach him. Sang-hyuk didn’t think anything of it, but it upset Hak-yeon every time he mentioned it.  
  
 _“You don’t have to do that stuff every day, Sang-hyuk.”_  
  
“I know, but I like going ahead. It makes him happy.”  
  
 _“You don’t have to always worry about making others happy. Your happiness should come first.”_ At the word happiness, Hak-yeon’s face was the first thing Sang-hyuk thought of, though he quickly banished that to the depths of his heart. No matter what he wanted, he and Hak-yeon weren’t allowed to be happy together, to even be together, so he erased the thought altogether. He just shook his head, disregarding that Hak-yeon couldn’t see it.  
  
“My happiness doesn’t matter. I…I want him to see.”  
  
 _“Don’t think like that. Remember, you deserve happiness too, even in that horrible place you call home. Sang-hyuk-”_  
  
“No. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”  
  
Sang-hyuk sat straight in his seat as he pushed the phone to the other end of his desk, pulling his textbook closer and focusing all his attention on the jumbled words on the page. He could vaguely hear Hak-yeon’s hurried apologies but did his best to ignore them, reading and rereading the technical terms of computer programming his father was determined to teach him. While he wasn’t good at it and never progressed as fast as his father would like, he wanted to do better. He wanted to hear his father’s praises, see his father smile down at him while patting his shoulder like he used to.  
  
That would bring him happiness.  
  
Hak-yeon didn’t understand, refused to listen when Sang-hyuk tried to explain. He was so caught up in how bad Sang-hyuk’s father treated him that he didn’t pay attention to how much Sang-hyuk wanted his father’s affection.  
  
It was some time before he pulled himself away to see his phone screen still on, Hak-yeon’s name still shining brightly. Sang-hyuk felt his stomach clench at the sight, biting his lip as he silently brought the phone back to his side. He leaned his head against the cool surface of his desk, the speaker only inches from his lips.  
  
“…Hak-yeon?”  
  
It was silent for a minute, and Sang-hyuk wondered worriedly if Hak-yeon gave up waiting and left. But like always, Hak-yeon crushed those terrible thoughts when he responded gently, _“I’m here.”_  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
He could hear Hak-yeon sigh. _“It’s not your fault, I shouldn’t have pushed you. Are you okay?”_  
  
“Yeah…” He knew Hak-yeon was waiting for more, but Sang-hyuk didn’t know what else to say. He could barely understand himself half the time; how could he even begin to explain it to someone else?  
  
 _“Okay. I trust you. In the end, don’t listen to anyone else, even me. Do whatever makes you happy, okay, baby?”_ When Sang-hyuk gave a small grunt, not trusting himself to say anything without crying, Hak-yeon continued. _“It’s getting late, you should go to bed soon. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”_  
  
“Okay,” he promised, his mood falling considerably when he heard the following click of Hak-yeon hanging up. He usually didn’t go to bed so early, the sun having barely set and the glow of his desk lamp barely adding anything to the dimly lit room. But he still felt bad for ignoring Hak-yeon all that time, not to mention everything else that happened earlier, and felt that just going to bed would help him forget everything.  
  
He hesitated halfway through changing to his pajamas, a small gasp of surprise escaping his lips at the sight of the large, hand-shaped bruises that decorated his upper thighs. The fingertips were darker than the rest, small dents from the man’s nails embedded into his skin. Sang-hyuk hissed when he attempted even a slight poke at it, rivets of pain rushing through him. They were not alone, however, large, blotting bruises decorating his ribcage and around his stomach. They stood out starkly against Sang-hyuk’s pale skin, almost as if daring him to stare, and he hurriedly threw his clothes on, not wanting to see them any longer.  
  
He knew he shouldn’t go back, and hoped his father returned in the morning.  
  
Because when he remembers the hope in the other’s voice, and thinks about him being lonely and hungry, regardless if he pretends or not, Sang-hyuk isn’t sure he’d be able to listen to his mind when his soul is the one searching.


	5. Relearn

The light was bright.  
  
The room had been dark for some time, having shut off a while after Sang-hyuk had left. Its eyes immediately retracted at the sudden introduction, its eyelids blinking reflexively as it turned its head away. The darkness had not bothered it, gave it no other feeling than being in a different setting, yet it welcomed the light, finally able to see. Its eyes could not see in the dark, trapping it to the bed it laid on since it could not move without its sight.  
  
Even so, it took some time before it decided to venture farther than its bed, swinging its legs over the side and watching them dangle below. It might as well have stayed lying still, comprehending nothing beyond what its eyes could see and what it could fathom from that. With nothing but focus that its mind could use, it placed one foot to the floor, watching as the skin squished at the touch, turning white briefly before fading back to the original skin tone. Curious, it did the same with its other foot, watching it do the same.  
  
Its body appeared to have some knowledge of itself beyond what its mind could remember, its knees automatically locking when it tried to stand up, its feet bracing to hold its weight. It was not something it had known to do, and had never done beforehand; it sat back down on the bed as it raised its leg up, watching as the knee joint bent and straightened along to its whims. It was interesting, and it decided to try and see what else its body could do.  
  
It was just about to see if its elbow could bend in the opposite direction when the door opened; it snapped its head up to see Sang-hyuk at the door, eyes wide as he stared at it. He did not move for some time, so it looked down to see what about itself could upset him, finding nothing wrong beside its hand moving up to cup the backside of its elbow. Sang-hyuk coughed awkwardly as he shut the door behind him, taking a couple steps forward to place his folder on the table. It watched him the whole time.  
  
“You…shouldn’t do that,” Sang-hyuk said finally, gesturing to its elbow that was just beginning to bend backwards, coming over and pulling its hands apart when it did not move. It watched Sang-hyuk carefully as he grabbed the chair by the desk, rolling it over to the bedside before sitting down.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Sang-hyuk paused, his face blank before speaking slowly, “You’ll hurt yourself.”  
  
“Hurt?” It watched Sang-hyuk open his mouth to say something only to snap it closed, his eyes lowering slowly. It did not know why he reacted as such, but it noted how similar his expression was to the last time, when tears came and he cried as he laughed. It was not sure if crying was a positive or negative reaction, but it could tell by the way Sang-hyuk hesitated in answering he was not reacting positively. “Did I say something wrong?”  
  
Sang-hyuk blinked, shaking his head quickly and sitting straighter, a smile on his face. “No, sorry, I was just thinking about something.” He shifted in his chair as his smile widened, leaning forward and placing his hand on its own. It stared down at their hands, trying to understand why the man would want to touch in such a way when there was nothing to gain, when Sang-hyuk’s voice spoke again. “Hurting is when you feel pain. Pain…that’s not something you can understand, unfortunately.”  
  
“Why not?” It understood what the words meant—the concept was a little strange for it to perceive, but it knew it could understand if given time.  
  
“Well…your nerves don’t work anymore, so you wouldn’t be able to even if you tried. Here, do you feel this?” Sang-hyuk moved his hand down its wrist and over its palm, clapping and pinching when it made no move to register the touch. His hand continued up the length of its arm, his breath slowing as his fingers stopped by its elbow, his thumb stroking in a repetitive fashion. It waited patiently for Sang-hyuk to continue, only watching with slight curiosity, until Sang-hyuk said quietly,  
  
“You can’t feel anymore. Y21…you have to be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  
  
“How can I not get hurt if I cannot feel? I would not know if I am in pain.”  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded his head before pulling one hand away and sticking it into his coat pocket, his eyebrows furrowed as if searching for something until he drew out a small pocket knife. With a flick of his thumb the blade shot out of the plastic casing, Sang-hyuk holding it up so it could see it clearly. “Watch me, now.”  
  
Without waiting for any confirmation on its part, Sang-hyuk stuck the knife into his arm, the skin splitting apart in rugged chunks as the blade dragged along. However, it was not the cut nor the blood that caught its attention, but the way Sang-hyuk’s face contorted, his eyes squeezing shut as his lips pulled back into a grimace. His whole body arched, his arm moving closer to his chest as the knife fell to the floor, his hands shaking terribly. He flexed his fingers as he took deep breaths, Sang-hyuk’s eyes wide and dilated as he pursed his lips together, letting out a long breath that stopped when he finally placed his uninjured arm on the bed.  
  
“…did you see that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. It looked up to see Sang-hyuk staring at it, sweat beading around his forehead as his eyes were filled with something it could not name. It did not know what was happening, or what Sang-hyuk had done, but it knew that whatever it was, it was not a positive reaction. “That…that was pain. That was hurting.”  
  
It blinked, this new information washing over it as it stared at Sang-hyuk’s face; it listened to the small gasps he tried to cover with tight lips, watched how his hands shook as his fingers rested near the wound, hovering close but never touching. It looked down to the bloody knife on the floor, to the drops of blood on Sang-hyuk’s coat.  
  
It reached out and took Sang-hyuk’s arm, tugging him closer so it could stare at the wound. This wound—it caused pain. It poked at the edges of the mangled skin, its eyes flitting up when Sang-hyuk let out a strangled cry.  
  
“That hurts,” Sang-hyuk said, his furrowed brow and overall stiff posture outweighing the small smile he tried to give.  
  
“This is what you want me to avoid? Hurting myself like you have done?”  
  
“No,” Sang-hyuk said, yanking his arm away and standing up, crossing the room to the forgotten cabinet, taking out a white box and placing it on the desk. He didn’t speak right away, instead focusing on his wound, hissing as he cleaned away the blood and wrapped a bandage over it that hid away any evidence of what had happened. It wanted to reach over and poke at it again, wanted to see Sang-hyuk’s face change and hear him struggle with words in that hoarse voice. It was not the pain but the reaction that triggered its curiosity, and it wanted to see it again.  
  
It snapped its head up when Sang-hyuk slammed the box closed, the sleeve of his coat rolling down his arm and covering the bandage. It followed the motion closely.  
  
“No, Y21, what I wanted you to see was pain. You saw how I reacted, how my body reacted; that was pain. Even if you can’t feel it, you can recognize the signs.”  
  
“I can only know by blood, if going by your description. I cannot feel what you did to cause such a reaction.”  
  
“I know that. But if you can recognize what is at least happening, it is already a step in the right direction. Pain comes from triggering the nervous system, something sharp puncturing the skin or something blunt knocking hard against the body. Because your nerves were severed, even if something like that did happen to you, you wouldn’t know it. Just like how you were trying to bend your arm backwards earlier.”  
  
It looked down to its arm, staring as nothing happened despite waiting to see it move. Its own body; it knew it was its own, could tell it was attached to itself by the joints that moved when it told it to. But it had nothing like what Sang-hyuk did to make it truly feel its own. It lifted its arm so that it could stare at its palm—even though it had told its arm to do that, and even though the arm had followed the order, it was as if watching another body entirely. It did not feel like its own.  
  
It was strange, being told to understand a concept that it had no ability to even begin trying.  
  
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” It looked up to see Sang-hyuk holding its hand, his face relaxed as he smiled. There was not a trace of the pain in his expression, the smile so positive it could only focus on the way his lips stretched across his face. “Don’t worry. We’re...I’m working on a way for you to feel again. I won’t let you stay like this, I promise.”  
  
“Was I able to feel like you before?”  
  
“Yes,” Sang-hyuk said quietly, nodding as tears hung at the edge of his eyes again. It noticed Sang-hyuk cried easily. “Yes, you did. You felt more than any person I ever met. And I will give that back to you, I promise.”  
  
It did not know the proper response to such a declaration, not sure why Sang-hyuk was trying to promise something he had no way of knowing he could keep. It seemed strange to put so much faith into something so trivial, so it only nodded to appease him. Instead, it let its eyes trail down to the blood on Sang-hyuk’s coat, focusing on the hint of red peeking out from under his sleeve.  
  
“Your blood…does that come when you are in pain?”  
  
It took Sang-hyuk a second to understand, instinctively tugging down his sleeve. “Not all the time. Only when you pierce skin.” He reached down and picked up the forgotten knife as if for emphasis, wiping the blood away on his coat.  
  
“Would I bleed?”  
  
Sang-hyuk paused again, his smile being replaced with a frown. “Yes, but I don’t want you to ever try on your own, understand?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
The next time Sang-hyuk came, it was waiting for him, sitting exactly where he had left it. Sang-hyuk had told it that it could move around the room if it wanted when he was gone, though it did no such thing. It did not understand the need to move when there was no reason to, did not understand why Sang-hyuk would expect it to do so without him there. There was nothing to gain from the endeavor, not including the fact that it still had not learned how to walk properly, unable to move its limbs without looking directly at them first.  
  
Sang-hyuk frowned when he saw it on the bed, the smile that had been on his lips falling to a frown. It did nothing but watch as Sang-hyuk placed his folder on the desk, sitting in the chair and rolling over to the bedside. “I told you, you can walk around if you want,” Sang-hyuk said, the tone in his voice sounding different than before as he reached over and took its hands, checking the joints and making sure everything was fine. It merely blinked, not knowing what kind of response Sang-hyuk wanted, and Sang-hyuk sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. Here, let me ask you differently.” Sang-hyuk’s hands moved down to its waist, pressing around and making a quick motion to have it rotate slightly so he could feel the joints move. “Do you want to walk around?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Sang-hyuk stopped, looking up with wide eyes that he quickly hid away. “Oh. Well then, why don’t you want to?”  
  
“There is no reason to.”  
  
Sang-hyuk pulled his hands back, resting them on his knees as he took a deep breath, his eyes staring right into its own. A smile spread over his lips that pulled his eyebrows down, an expression it noticed happened when he was about to cry. Letting out another breath, he leaned forward so he was looking up into its eyes, the tips of his bangs falling across his forehead. “There doesn’t always have to be a reason. Don’t you want to see what your room is like? I know it’s small, but there’s lots of things to see.”  
  
“I can see everything from here.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you can’t move.” Sang-hyuk waited a minute before realizing it was not going to say anything, nodding his head as he moved down to its legs. It watched him, watched as his expression fell still and his eyes refused to look anywhere but its legs, his fingers carefully bending its knees. It did not know why moving around seemed to be of such importance to Sang-hyuk, to the point he appeared to almost cry. It turned its eyes away from Sang-hyuk’s face to look at the room, looking at the few things that it had already stared at for hours. The cabinet, the bed, the desk; what else did it need to look at? What other reason did it need to move?  
  
It continued to stare blankly until Sang-hyuk finished, waving his hand in front of it to bring its attention back. “Hey, what are you thinking about?” There was a small laugh in his voice, his expression positive again. It wondered if the seamless changes in his expression and voice happened because he chose it, and whether it would one day be able to do the same.  
  
“I am trying to understand why you want me to move.”  
  
Sang-hyuk did not take as long to answer this time, shaking his head. The smile was gone. “It’s not that I want you to, I just don’t want you to sit here forever without moving. You should get up, walk around a bit. Here, I’ll show you.”  
  
Sang-hyuk grunted as he stood up, smiling down as he held his hand out, his palm facing up to the ceiling. It did not move, trying to understand what it was he wanted, and Sang-hyuk hissed softly. “Ah, sorry. Here, I’m inviting you to take my hand.” Still uncertain, it carefully placed its hand in his. Without another word, Sang-hyuk tugged it to its feet, catching it when it nearly fell over. It immediately tried to grab something, its body reacting on its own again, slapping at Sang-hyuk and tearing at his sleeves until Sang-hyuk eventually held it steady.  
  
Slowly, Sang-hyuk helped it enough that it could stand on its own, though its hands refused to leave Sang-hyuk’s arms. While its feet were now prepared to hold its weight and its knees were properly locked, it was still not ready.  
  
“Sorry, did that surprise you? I’ll let you know next time I do something like that.” His hand reached up to push the tips of its hair from its eyes, that crying smile on his face. “Look at you. You’re standing up all by yourself.”  
  
“I cannot,” it said immediately, staring into Sang-hyuk’s eyes to show how it did not like this. All that did was make Sang-hyuk laugh.  
  
“Yes you can, look at yourself.” It did as told, looking down to see its legs standing sturdy. “I’m going to let go now, so be ready.” It tried to grab onto him as Sang-hyuk pulled away, though its fingers only slipped uselessly through Sang-hyuk’s. Its body again reacted on its own, wobbling back and forth to try and stay steady, though with no way to tell where to hold its weight, it ended up collapsing to the floor.  
  
Sang-hyuk was immediately by its side, bending over so his face was in its point of view, helping it sit up. His voice was high as he repeatedly asked if it was okay. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? A-ah, Y21, here let me help you. Shit, I should’ve been more careful. Here, I’m going to sit you down, be careful.”  
  
Sang-hyuk’s hands were all over it as he sat it back down on the bed, continuing to apologize as he did so. He checked over its body, doing the same tests as before but now much slower, taking great care as he checked its legs. It waited until Sang-hyuk finally sat down, his hands running up into his hair and pulling, his teeth biting down into his lip enough to draw blood. Once it saw the blood, it realized that this was what Sang-hyuk had taught it, the blood bringing pain and pain causing hurt.  
  
It reached over and yanked his lip straight out from under his teeth, ignoring the way Sang-hyuk flinched back as it wiped the blood away and then smeared it over the sheets on the bed. It could hear Sang-hyuk crying, turning its head to see tears running down his cheeks as he tried his best to wipe them away with the back of his hands.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said through his tears, taking a deep breath as he blinked his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y21.”  
  
“Why are you sorry?”  
  
Sang-hyuk let out a sound that sounded like a mixture between a laugh and a cry. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”  
  
It shook its head, showing its arms and legs for emphasis. “No, I am not hurt. I did not bleed.”  
  
It took Sang-hyuk a second to understand, fresh tears filling his eyes. “No…no, you didn’t.” His hands were shaking as they took its own, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of its hand. “But remember, I told you there doesn’t always have to be blood to feel pain. You fell; that would hurt.”  
  
It watched Sang-hyuk cry a little longer before it pulled its hands away, mimicking the way Sang-hyuk always held its own, down to the rubbing small circles into the back of his hand. Sang-hyuk stopped mid-sob, eyes wide in disbelief. It was not sure itself what exactly it was doing, but it had realized Sang-hyuk had done this before to stop his crying, so it wanted to do the same. It worked; Sang-hyuk stopped.  
  
“Y21…”  
  
“You are fine, Sang-hyuk. I am not in pain. Do not cry.” The words flowed through its lips as easily as its body moved to breathe, not even sure what they meant as it said them. Whatever they were, they had the intended effect, Sang-hyuk whispering a soft ‘thank you’ as he leaned his head onto its shoulder and cried.  
  
\--  
  
Sang-hyuk left not much later, not saying anything as he took his folder and walked right out the door. It watched him leave, repeated the sound of his apologies on its own lips to try and figure out what it had done to cause him to cry. It had tried to tell him that it was not ready to walk. It wondered if he had not understood its warning and believed that it should have been able to move on its own. As it looked down to its feet hanging over the edge of the bed, the toes flicking whenever it ordered them to, it wondered if it should have been able to.  
  
It straightened its right leg out, focused on the way the muscles tensed and shifted as it flexed its foot. Sang-hyuk had cried because it could not walk on its own and fell. While it was not entirely sure what kind of reaction crying was, it knew that it was not positive. Would being able to walk make him smile?  
  
While his mind could not rationalize why it would prioritize Sang-hyuk’s smile over the more logical decision to stay sitting, it still believed it should try.  
  
As it shifted to try and put its foot on the floor, the door creaked open, its head snapping up to greet Sang-hyuk, when an entirely different person stepped inside. It stayed completely still as it scanned this new person, not recognizing the man. A long, thin face, a high nose, thin eyebrows shaped over eyes that refused to look in its direction; the man kept his eyes down as he rolled a small cart inside the room.  
  
It immediately compared the man to the only thing it knew. Already, it could see how this man’s back was bent slightly, his shoulders pulled forward and his head bent down. Sang-hyuk always stood tall, his shoulders rolled back and his head held high. This man’s hands shook as he organized through the various bowls and utensils on the cart, his breathing audible as it came out in quick gasps. Sang-hyuk, for the most part, was calm as he spoke, his shaking hands and irregular breathing coming only when he cried. When the man finally turned to face it, his eyes catching its own briefly, he immediately looked down. Sang-hyuk always looked it in the eye.  
  
“I-I’m going to be feeding you, now,” he said, swallowing loudly as he pulled out a long tube, without another word stuffing it into its mouth. It blinked at the sudden motion, not used to having things done without being told. It noticed how the man explicitly avoided touching it, his hands taking extra care to adjust the tube without brushing its lips, moving the cart closer instead of asking it to shift. It could only conclude that Sang-hyuk must have told the man about how it could not feel, thus causing him to avoid its touch.  
  
The man flipped a switch and a liquid began to run down the tube, unable to see where it went once it entered its mouth. It did not move, sitting compliantly to wait until the man was done, when the man’s expression opened considerably as his eyes widened, hurriedly flicking the switch off and yanking the tube from its mouth. Unintelligible words flew out of his mouth as he grabbed napkins and wiped at its face, at times brushing its eyes or knocking its head back and forth.  
  
It looked down to see what was bothering the man so badly to see the liquid covering its whole front, running down its chest and eventually dripping onto the floor. While the man busied himself trying to clean its face, it ran a single finger over its stomach, tilting its head at how the liquid clung to its finger. It wondered what the temperature of the liquid was, whether it had anything to do with how the man hissed every time he touched it.  
  
The door swung open again and Sang-hyuk was in the room, the man whirling around with an expression that looked as if he was about to cry.  
  
“What did you do?” Sang-hyuk asked loudly, crossing the room in a few strides and shoving the man away, grabbing the napkins and swiftly cleaning away the rest of the liquid. The man squirmed from where he stood, his hands knotted in front of him as he kept his head bowed, shaking.  
  
“I-I don’t know. I-I tried to feed it l-like they told me to. But it didn’t go down, it just filled its mouth and started running down its face and-”  
  
“Stop, that’s enough,” Sang-hyuk said, cutting the man off. He knelt down as he tugged its chin down to meet his eyes, his lips a thin line. “Y21, can you hear me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Sang-hyuk smiled. “That’s good.” His hand moved up to run through its hair, stopping at the back of its head. “Do you know what…” He turned to the man. “What’s your name?”  
  
“K-Kim Seok-jin.”  
  
Sang-hyuk turned back to it, “Do you know what Seok-jin was trying to do to you?”  
  
“Feed me.”  
  
“Yes. Do you know what that means?”  
  
“To gain the nutrients from the food.”  
  
“Yes,” Sang-hyuk’s smile was softer, both hands now on its cheeks. “Yes, that’s right. But do you know how to eat?” It blinked, and Sang-hyuk nodded understandingly. “Seok-jin,” the man, Seok-jin, stiffened, “Y21’s nerve receptors are still unresponsive, so he can’t feel or understand touch without explicit instruction. You need to work with him and give him a step-by-step on what you’re going to do and how you’re going to do it.”  
  
“O-oh…”  
  
Sang-hyuk kept one hand on its chin as he reached for the tube, taking great care to tell it everything he was doing when he placed it back in its mouth. He stood up, his hand never leaving its face. “Here, I’ll show you how to do it. If you do this right, he’ll remember and you shouldn’t have to explain again.” Seok-jin nodded diligently as he stepped forward, and Sang-hyuk turned his attention back to it. “Okay, Y21, what we’re going to do is feed you. What I want you to do is just swallow, just keep swallowing until I tell you to stop. Can you do that?”  
  
“Yes,” it replied, its voice slightly distorted from the way its lips tried to speak around the tube. Sang-hyuk’s smile widened as he ran his hand through its hair again, something it noticed he did a lot. It waited until Sang-hyuk flipped the switch, the liquid beginning to run again and, as told, it began to swallow. It did not know if what it was doing was correct, watching Sang-hyuk’s face closely for any indication to stop. Sang-hyuk did no such thing, just keeping his hand in its hair and his finger hovering over the switch, staring at the tube intensely.  
  
A considerable time passed before Sang-hyuk switched the tube off, waiting a couple seconds before removing it. It closed its mouth as the two of them placed the tube back on the cart, working with something it could not see. It made no move to try and see, waited patiently even when Sang-hyuk’s eyes eventually flitted back to it, a small laugh escaping his lips.  
  
“Look at you,” he said, his laughter embedded into his words and trickling through the air. He grabbed another napkin and wiped at its mouth, smiling. “You’re so messy. Next time try and keep the food in your mouth.”  
  
It tilted its head at the comment, watching as Sang-hyuk threw the dirty napkin onto the cart. “I am sorry. I will try next time.”  
  
Sang-hyuk paused, his smile faltering briefly before standing up. Seok-jin’s fidgeting stopped. “Doctor, sir,” he said, causing Sang-hyuk to stiffen. It wondered how Sang-hyuk’s body was able to function, with how much he stiffened and loosened his muscles anytime anyone ever said anything.  
  
“Please, don’t call me doctor. I don’t really deserve that title.” Sang-hyuk stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Just call me Sang-hyuk. Though…you said your name was Seok-jin, right?”  
  
“Y-yes!”  
  
“Did they put you in charge of caring for Y21?” Seok-jin nodded and Sang-hyuk let out a low breath, sending it a quick glance. Neither spoke, staring at each other with Seok-jin looking about to cry, and Sang-hyuk smiled. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell anyone about this.”  
  
Seok-jin’s head snapped up. “Really?”  
  
“Of course. You’re an intern, aren’t you? They never give you guys any training, so it’s to be expected you’ll make mistakes. Don’t worry about it.” Seok-jin was smiling now, his shoulders relaxed, though his face scrunched slightly when Sang-hyuk suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. His gaze was unwavering, nothing like the way he would stare at it. “But I do want you to be careful. Y21 is very special, both to this project and to me. Don’t you dare hurt him, understand?”  
  
Seok-jin stuttered out a response before grabbing the cart and pushing it straight out of the room, not giving either Sang-hyuk or it another glance as he did so. Sang-hyuk did not seem bothered, turning to meet its questioning eyes and sighing.  
  
“I didn’t mean to scare him, but I’m serious. You’re very special, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” He looked to be thinking deeply, his expression closed, before he stepped forward, leaning down to pull it into a hug. It jerked initially, not sure what to do with its limbs or how it was supposed to respond, though that only made Sang-hyuk shift accordingly. “If anyone does anything to you, you tell me right away, okay? I will take care of you. Okay, Y21?”  
  
He pulled away to stare into its eyes, and it realized he was waiting for a verbal response. “I understand.”  
  
“Good. Don’t trust anyone here. Don’t let anyone do anything without asking me first. Okay?”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
Sang-hyuk’s smile and promise to be back soon were all it had before he was out the door, leaving it alone in a room that was little more than its entire world, a world where Sang-hyuk was all it had. It had no reason to expect anything more, even with the discovery that there were others besides Sang-hyuk and itself. With the few interactions it had, and the very limited things it had been allowed to learn, there was no reason to believe there really was a world outside that door.  
  
Sang-hyuk was all it had.


	6. Unreliable

X39 was still out of commission when he came in the next morning, the technicians still trying to fix his broken shoulder joint and looking through his hip attachments. He would normally be annoyed at the delay, would rather spend the majority of his work day sitting around doing nothing with X39, but this time…all he could feel was a sense of dread that began to curl in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Yesterday, X39 had started to say things Sang-hyuk had never heard him say before, at least not here. During the many years Sang-hyuk had been assigned to work with him, there had been slight hiccups, where an upgrade caused him to be unable to record new memories or a new type of skin leaving him unable to touch things without causing burns to rupture with each press. But never had he developed a capacity to speak above the minimal boundaries that were placed, only able to respond to simple questions and ask about things that it could physically see. X39 could not think metaphorically, nor could he interpret beyond the physical.  
  
And yet he had asked Sang-hyuk to tell him a story, a story he remembered Sang-hyuk telling him multiple times before. He had expressed the desire of wanting to hear it, a concept he even now didn’t fully understand. This was leaps and bounds ahead of anything they had thought possible, having long deduced that both X39 and T52 were useless with no room for improvement. It was not a conclusion Sang-hyuk particularly liked, and while he fought constantly to keep the X39 project from being pushed to the side like the T52 one had, it was one that he both feared and hoped would eventually happen.  
  
Because if it did come to light that X39 was actually adapting, actually learning and evolving, the amount of experiments and tests that would be done on him would be enough to make Sang-hyuk cry.  
  
  
He kept as straight a face as possible as he went back downstairs, Joon-myeon sending him there since X39 was still out. He could tell Joon-myeon was a little annoyed as well, this time assigning Sang-hyuk to help Sung-jae work with the volunteers and administering shots. Feeding the subjects were nothing compared to the volunteers, something everyone knew and the reason why everyone avoided the area as best they could—but this time Sang-hyuk was prepared. He hadn’t had the whole day break away at him until he was barely aware, barely together; he was new and ready, his completely penetrable impenetrable walls up and thick.  
  
Sung-jae was there to greet him, grinning mischievously as he jumped by his side and tugged on his arm. “Did they assign you here again? We’re going to work together again?” Sang-hyuk could tell which interns were new when a few heads looked up at them curiously, eyes searching as they stared at him.  
  
He did his best to ignore them.  
  
“Yeah,” he said quietly, giving a small smile at how happy Sung-jae seemed to be at the news. “X39 is still getting his shoulder fixed, so they put me down here for now.”  
  
“Great! What do they want you to do? Records? Feeding? You could help So-youngie here-”  
  
“Calm down there. I was scheduled to work with the volunteers, so tell So-young it’ll have to be another time.” The childish way the intern nearby averted her eyes with a small, disappointed frown was nothing compared to the way Sung-jae immediately sobered, grabbing Sang-hyuk’s wrist and pulling him to a secluded corner. There were cameras everywhere and people all over in the downstairs lab, but it gave them a sense of secrecy.  
  
“What do you mean? Did you manage to piss off Joon-myeon again? I can get someone else-”  
  
“It’s okay, I don’t mind, really,” Sang-hyuk said softly, placing a hand on Sung-jae’s to loosen his grip. Sung-jae allowed him but his eyes stayed firmly locked on Sang-hyuk, knowing much more than Sang-hyuk would ever be willing to admit. “I’m sorry about yesterday. Yesterday…yesterday was a long day. I’m much better today. I promise.”  
  
Sung-jae didn’t look any more reassured, his lips still pressed into a thin line as he slowly let go of Sang-hyuk’s wrist. “Okay…I’ll help you, I can always have someone else check the Test 1 subjects.” Sang-hyuk moved to stop him but Sung-jae was already gone, whispering quietly to another one of the other scientists. They both looked over to him as they talked, their eyes sharp, and Sang-hyuk felt strangely bare, shifting uncomfortably and looking anywhere else until Sung-jae came back. He really hated everyone here.  
  
“Okay, you and I are put on volunteer duty. Did they say how long you’ll be here?” Sung-jae was careful not to touch Sang-hyuk again as he led him through the maze of hallways and rooms, bringing back his bright smile as they walked. Sang-hyuk appreciated it.  
  
“Just until X39 was finished. It sounded like it shouldn’t be too long, so probably just a couple hours.”  
  
Sung-jae scoffed, opening the door to the room that was the exact set-up of a doctor’s office. The majority of it was just for show, none of the folders or tools actually used for anything but making people comfortable. Most of the scientists, or doctors, as Sung-jae liked to call themselves, at this point didn’t care about the aesthetics, found it even cumbersome at times, but the scientists’ desires were at the bottom of the list of priorities.  
  
Sung-jae grabbed a stethoscope and hurriedly put it around his neck, grabbing another and handing it over to Sang-hyuk. His grin only widened when Sang-hyuk glared at him. “Oh come on, we have to look official! What’s more official than a stethoscope?”  
  
“You do know you’re not an actual doctor, right? You don’t even use the thing.”  
  
“So? It makes us look cool.” When Sang-hyuk made no move to take it, Sung-jae quickly put it around his neck, laughing at the way he tried to flinch back. “Besides the volunteers always feel better when they see us wearing them.”  
  
Sang-hyuk didn’t deign that with a response as he fell into the desk chair Sung-jae went to sit in, a rare, mischievous grin on his lips at the exasperated groan from the other. He snorted when Sung-jae had to go to one of the other empty offices, grabbing a chair and grumbling loudly as he brought it back. Sung-jae sent him an annoyed glare when the chair caught on the doorframe, coughing distractedly as he stopped next to Sang-hyuk.  
  
“You’re lucky I like you,” Sung-jae mumbled, shutting the door and doing his best to look upset. Sang-hyuk managed a laugh as the two fixed their coats and straightened their hair, doing their best to look professional. As much as they joked about it, it really did make the volunteers feel better.  
  
Their playful banter was gone the second the door opened, an older man dressed in nothing but a thin t-shirt and jeans hesitantly coming in. Sung-jae was much more adept at this than Sang-hyuk, smiling pleasantly as he greeted the man, guiding him to the patient’s bed. Sang-hyuk scooted back to make way, his eyes scanning over the man answering all of Sung-jae’s pleasantries with a smile. He looked a bit older than Hak-yeon, the faint creases of growing wrinkles decorating his cheeks. He was a little old, but Sang-hyuk knew they’d take him. They would take anyone.  
  
“So, you have any family?” Sung-jae asked with a loose smile, feeling around the man’s chest with his stethoscope, placing it randomly to appear as if he knew what he was doing. The man had no reason to believe otherwise as he shook his head.  
  
“Nope. Never got around to it.”  
  
“That’s too bad. So, I’m guessing work’s important?”  
  
“Oh yes. I’m always working around the clock, barely have enough time to sleep let alone think about a family.” The man’s gaze finally landed on Sang-hyuk, offering a confused smile as he coughed against Sung-jae’s hands. “You need two doctors for this?”  
  
“No, I’m the official doctor. Sang-hyuk here is just observing. He’s new.” It was the lie they always gave, one that had slipped through Sung-jae’s lips so many times it felt true. Sang-hyuk didn’t even feel offended anymore. “Do you mind?”  
  
“Oh no. It’s always good to let a newbie get first-hand training. I don’t mind at all.”  
  
“Thank you!” Sung-jae grinned, rolling back so he could grab a folder, flipping through the pages to give the impression of working. Sang-hyuk watched him amusedly, seeing how well versed the other was, and was glad he didn’t have this job. He wouldn’t be able to act so nonchalant, so convincing, without either killing the volunteer or breaking down. He leaned over when Sung-jae gave the signal, pretending to be wide-eyed and new as Sung-jae whispered to him.  
  
“Okay, I’m going to prep him and get him to sign the waiver. You get the shot ready.”  
  
Sang-hyuk only nodded as he got up to pull the syringe out from the desk drawer, listening intently as Sung-jae began to talk with the volunteer.  
  
“Okay, you know what this test is for, right?”  
  
“Of course! I always like volunteering for tests like this! The possibility of being a part of the first step towards the future is an honor.” Sang-hyuk scoffed inwardly, avoiding the swift kick Sung-jae secretly tried to hit him with. It was always the same, people not fully aware of what they’re really signing up for, always so eager to become part machine when the chance of that happening was almost nonexistent. But of course they would never say that, and of course the influx of volunteers was always the same.  
  
This man was no different.  
  
“Good! We need more people like you! Now, I just want to go over the procedure with you first, and if you’re okay with everything up to that point, just sign this waiver. Then we can get started; how does that sound?” Sung-jae sounded so excited, matching the man’s eagerness easily; Sang-hyuk paused from inputting the serum into the syringe to look at the two of them.  
  
“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he found himself asking, and Sung-jae shot him a worried look as the man stumbled over his words confusedly.  
  
“Yeah…it’s just a test to see if I’m compatible—for the study, right?” Now the man looked unsure, his fingers hesitating from touching the waiver.  
  
“Of course. We just want to make sure you’re really okay.” Sung-jae quickly grabbed the man’s attention again and went right into the procedure, not allowing Sang-hyuk any more time to speak. “We’re going to give you the shot first. It’ll knock you out for a little bit, but that’s normal. Once you’re awake, we’ll run the test and get back to you once we have the results. How does that sound?”  
  
“Sounds perfect!” Sang-hyuk watched the man sign away on the form, a bitter taste in his mouth when Sung-jae asked for the syringe. Everyone’s eyes were locked on that lone needle, watching as Sung-jae prepped it and held it up to the man’s arm. The man didn’t notice the way they both tensed, ready, prepared; he merely offered his arm and waited excitedly, grinning. “Alright, this will sting just a little.”  
  
Sang-hyuk had to look away when the needle was inserted into the man’s arm, the contents swishing through his skin and into his veins. Nothing happened right away, his body slow to react, but it was obvious the moment he put a hand to his chest, coughing uncomfortably, his hand trailing down to hover where the shot had been administered. “Ow, it kinda burns.”  
  
“It’ll do that at first. It’s nothing to worry about,” Sung-jae reassured, his voice hard as they watched impassively as the man’s fidgeting began to worsen.  
  
“No, I mean, it’s really burning. Like, everywhere.” He started scratching at his skin as his muttering turned to cries, falling back onto the bed and rolling around to try and lessen the pain. “It really hurts! Why is it hurting?” It was when his nails started to dig into his skin, his eyes bloodshot, that they sprang into action, Sung-jae expertly pulling out the restraints and locking his hands and feet down. His screams only increased, his cries turning to pleading as he shook his head back and forth.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Sung-jae said, Sang-hyuk holding the man’s head in place, “you’ll get your wish. Your contribution to the study will definitely be appreciated.”  
  
The man didn’t have the chance to say anything else as the serum finally finished running through his system, his body collapsing so suddenly it took Sang-hyuk a few seconds to realize. But even unconscious, his body was still trembling, still in pain, and Sung-jae hurried out to announce they were ready to send the volunteer to the testing room.  
  
To be preserved.  
  
To be kept in a prolonged sleep as they waited to see if he would survive or not.  
  
The two of them were silent as they watched a couple scientists come in to wheel the man out, collapsing into their respective chairs as they waited for someone to bring them a new bed. It was the one thing the higher-ups actually agreed to, giving the scientists time to recover between each patient, between each volunteer. Because there was no one that could so easily go from killing one man to the next without so much as a breather.  
  
Sang-hyuk knew he couldn’t.  
  
“You doing okay?” Sung-jae asked, a hint of melancholy in his voice. Sang-hyuk looked up to see his friend staring at him, the emptiness in the other’s eyes reminding Sang-hyuk how difficult it truly was to work down here, and how strong Sung-jae had to be to continue. He nodded tiredly, a lie they both were used to telling, and Sung-jae sighed. “You can’t stop them. They don’t know, and if they ever found out, we wouldn’t have any volunteers.”  
  
“I know. But…he was just so excited. Excited to die.”  
  
“Yeah…yeah. There are times I get runaway kids wanting to try something out just because their parents told them no. There are so many times _I_ want to tell them no, but…we can’t. We can’t put ourselves in danger just for that.” There was a hint of self-hatred in his friend’s voice that Sang-hyuk related to almost too well, and the two of them fell into a much-needed silence as they waited for the next volunteer to be sent in.  
  
  
Sang-hyuk was more than ready to escape when he finally got the call that X39 was done, jumping from his chair and throwing down his stethoscope. He did feel bad leaving Sung-jae alone with an actually inexperienced intern to continue working with the volunteers, but he didn’t need much reassurance from his friend to agree he would be okay. Sung-jae had been working here just as long as Sang-hyuk had, and was more than qualified to work down here. He would be fine; not that it did much to make him feel better.  
  
He was not as hot a commodity as he was downstairs, so when he emerged from the elevator no one gave him a second glance, passing by him with disinterested expertise. It was a welcome sight, easily slipping through the hallways to make his way to X39’s room. He stopped briefly to grab the file report from the small slot next to the doorway, glancing through it to see the notes left by the technicians, detailing the work done to X39’s shoulder.  
  
He hoped everything was back to normal now.  
  
He stepped inside to see X39 staring at him, back impossibly straight and hands placed firmly on his knees as he did so. Nothing looked different as Sang-hyuk silently ran his eyes over the other’s body, completely stark naked with nothing but the synthetic skin that was flawlessly wrapped over him. He really wished they gave them something to wear; seeing them like this always made Sang-hyuk uncomfortable.  
  
“I see you’re awake,” Sang-hyuk said amiably as he sat down and rolled his chair over to X39’s side, watching attentively at the way X39’s gaze followed him. Something caught his eye, the words he was preparing to say caught in his throat when a quick spark appeared in X39’s eyes, a spark he hadn’t seen in so many years. He blinked, focusing, to hopefully see it again, but by then X39 was looking down at their hands, nothing there except the usual empty awareness.  
  
“H-how are you?” he finally managed to ask, extremely aware of the way X39’s eyes flicked up to stare straight at him. X39 had always been silent, and always took in his surroundings through his gaze alone; it was something Sang-hyuk was used to and barely registered now. But after yesterday, every motion, every flick of his gaze, seemed to hold a hidden thought, a kind of realization emerging from a long, suppressed sleep.  
  
Sang-hyuk at one point had prayed for this, wished the Hong-bin he remembered would come back. But after so many years and falling into a steady, safe rhythm of cautious life, he was not ready for anything to upset that.  
  
He was long past the point of wishing for any change.  
  
So, he ignored any hint of free thought, any hint of change, when X39 responded accordingly. “I am fine.”  
  
“That’s good. Now, they supposedly fixed your shoulder, so it shouldn’t pop out like yesterday. We can check that really quick, just to make sure.” He immediately reached out and placed both hands on X39’s shoulder, feeling the arm move underneath his fingers. The motion was seamless, not a pop or creak at all, and Sang-hyuk let out a sigh of relief. He really didn’t want to send X39 to the technicians any more than he had to. He checked the rest of the arm to find they replaced the entire limb, the once creaking elbow joints now just as smooth as the rest of the arm. He nodded approvingly.  
  
“Wow, they did something right for once. I’ll make sure to put that in so they know you’re fine.” He turned to the computer to input the data, feeling his skin crawl from the way X39 stared at him. “I also told them about your hips, so let’s check that too.” He prodded X39 to stand up, watching his knees and feeling around his hips, everything moving so smoothly it was a wonder how those were the same people who messed up so badly. His hands pressed along the joints, moving from the hips up to his stomach, pushing against the flush skin to feel the sturdy metal underneath. Words subconsciously rambled off his lips all the while.  
  
“I probably should let them know how good a job they did; it’s perfect. If I’d known they’d do this good a job, I’d make them replace everything. Though I guess it would be better if they finally finished your skin cover…then you’d be able to feel this, wouldn’t you?” His hands trailed up X39’s stomach to his chest, his fingers brushing over the familiar crease. He forced a smile as he looked up to meet X39’s intense gaze, watching him so closely with something that was clearly beyond basic concentration. He tried his best not to focus on that.  
  
“Do you feel this, X39?” he asked softly, his fingernail catching on the crease. He noticed for the first time that he was taller, having to look down to feel along the crease he used to have to crane his neck to see.  
  
X39 was as still as a statue as he mouthed softly, “No.”  
  
“Oh, okay. I know one day they’ll figure it out, and then you’ll get to learn a whole new world all over again.” X39 didn’t respond to that, his lips tight, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly pushed him to sit back down, overwhelmed. He wasn’t ready for this—he didn’t want this. X39 couldn’t change. Changing meant adapting, and adapting meant they would want more. He had nothing left to give, nothing left to offer—he wanted nothing more than to break X39 apart just so he could run away and hide.  
  
He worried his bottom lip as he tried to figure out what was happening when X39 suddenly spoke, initiating a conversation all on his own. “My replacements; do they please you?”  
  
Sang-hyuk froze, looking up to meet those same hard eyes, swallowing as he tried his best to keep his voice steady. “Of course. You should always have the best.” He busied his hands with the edge of his folder, flicking it back and forth.  
“Then will you replace the rest of me? Would that please you?”  
  
“Of course not. You’re fine; I’ll only let them replace what is needed.” When X39 didn’t move, he added, “Nothing’s wrong with you.”  
  
“Do you still believe that?”  
  
Sang-hyuk stopped, looking up slowly to match X39’s heavy stare, his movements stilted as he tried to keep himself level. He had to be. Everything was fine. “I’ve never believed that…” He frowned at the way X39’s brow furrowed slightly, a motion he’s never done before here, and it stirred an uncomfortable feeling in Sang-hyuk’s chest. “I never did.”  
  
In lieu of a response X39’s eyes rove over his body, a low hum echoing through his artificial respirator. “You are just like your father, Han Sang-hyuk.”  
  
_No._  
  
Sang-hyuk flew out of seat as he stumbled over to the other side of the room, his hands tangled in his hair as he collapsed against the wall. No—no no no no no no no no no no no _no._ This wasn’t happening. Hong-bin was gone. Only X39 was left. He was _gone._ Tears clouded his eyes as his chest constricted painfully, his breaths feeling as if they were ripped out of him with each attempted gasp. Sweat clung to his skin as his fingers dug into his scalp, his knees buckling under his weight, his chest so _tight—_ and before he knew it strong hands were lifting him to his feet. He looked up through the tears to see Won-shik’s serious gaze boring into him, his breath so short when Won-shik held him close to his chest.  
  
“Let’s get you out of here,” Won-shik’s heavy voice filtered through his ears, throwing Sang-hyuk’s arm over his shoulder and helping him out of the room.  
  
He fluttered in and out of consciousness as he allowed Won-shik to take him away, the action too normal for him to think about. They stumbled through the hallways until they finally made it to Won-shik’s office, the place a complete mess as Won-shik brushed a few papers off the spare chair to sit Sang-hyuk down.  
  
Won-shik waited for him to calm down, his arms crossed as he leaned on the edge of his desk. “You okay now?”  
  
Sang-hyuk only gave a small nod, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
“I haven’t seen you like that in a long time.” Won-shik paused for a long while, eventually running his hands down his face and stuffing them in his pockets. “What happened?”  
  
Despite the concerned tone in the other’s voice, Sang-hyuk knew better than to speak too freely, knew he had to be careful with what he said. X39’s behavioral change, his sudden questions, his sudden insistence to speak of before…it would all be over if Won-shik found out. Won-shik had some level of concern for him, yes, but any of that would be gone the second anything happened to the cyborgs.  
  
“I don’t know…”  
  
“Sang-hyuk, you broke down back there. There’s no way you don’t know.” Sang-hyuk looked back to see Won-shik glaring at him, and he just shook his head.  
  
“It’s…it’s not me. X39-”  
  
“Was there another error? It’s always been full of them, but there have more and more recently.”  
  
“No…no…he didn’t do anything. I just…” He let out a whimpered sob, having to take a second to regain his bearings. “I asked him what my name was and he couldn’t remember. I don’t know, I guess I just…after so many years it hit me how much I don’t matter.” He peeked up to see Won-shik nodding thoughtfully, his fingers shaking at the thought that his lie might actually make it through. He didn’t like lying, especially to people who could actually hurt him, but he couldn’t tell the truth.  
  
“You know we’re all trying to get these borgs to the best we can. The updates—you know why we have to erase short term memory.”  
  
“I know but-”  
  
“You care too much.” Won-shik pushed off his desk to lay a hand on Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “I told you when you first came; you can’t care about these things. They’re not human anymore. All it’ll do is hurt you.”  
  
“I know…”  
  
“Just because they have some skin on them and can speak doesn’t make them human. We’ve wiped their memories and we can do it again. There’s no point to invest yourself so much.”   
  
“But they were human-”  
  
“Hyuk. You can’t work here thinking things like that. X39 is just a machine—a faulty one but a machine nonetheless.” Sang-hyuk didn’t respond, having heard these things so many times before, and he could feel Won-shik’s fingers tighten. “I mean it. It’s nice to think there’s something but you know just as well as I do that there _isn’t._ We’ve spent years with them; there’s nothing there.”  
  
That was true…after so many years, there really wasn’t. Years of their work wiped after each update, those flashing eyes holding nothing but simple recognition. Hours upon hours of dedicating his life where his only gratification was a simple nod, a learned response to lift their limbs when told.  
  
But he was never able to look past the face on the machine, never able to forget that what was in front of him had at one time been human. That he also had had feelings, had loved, had people that loved him. He couldn’t look past that, and he wanted to be the one that would give it back.  
  
Won-shik sighed as he shook his head. “I just don’t want you to feel too much. Feeling hurts, and it will hurt you. You have to forget all that. Hak-yeon depends on it.”  
  
Sang-hyuk swallowed, his voice shaking. “I know.”  
  
Won-shik gave him a small, sympathetic smile, patting him on the back. “Stay here till you feel better. I can send an intern to finish the normal tests until you’re ready.” He headed to the door, stopping briefly as he let out another sigh. It was something he did a lot. “Take your time.”  
  
  
Sang-hyuk splashed water on his face, the running water fading into the background as he looked at himself in the mirror, breathing heavily. With each drop that trickled down his chin and splashed on his hands, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry, to gasp and bleed until everything was numb again. He had been doing so well. He’d gone so many weeks, months, _years,_ without messing up. He had long since passed the point of breaking down at the mere sound of X39’s voice, of realizing the depths of his job and what he had to do. He was immune, he was done…and yet just a few simple questions and a steady gaze were all that was needed to pull him apart at the seams.  
  
He was better than this.  
  
He waited a couple more minutes, until his breathing was calm and his eyes were no longer red, before heading back to X39’s room. He didn’t knock before entering, opening the door to find X39 sitting in his normal spot and the poor intern on the complete opposite end of the room. It was understandable; most interns avoided direct contact with the cyborgs as much as possible, unnerved at their inhuman behavior and affectless faces. The girl looked up at him in a mixture of fear and relief, jumping to her feet as she bowed politely. He hated when they bowed.  
  
“All the tests have been finished now, Han Sang-hyuk, sir,” she said, fidgeting as her eyes glanced over at X39 continuously.  
  
“Err, thank you,” Sang-hyuk managed to mumble out, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. She gave a thankful smile when he herded her out of the room, grateful for the quick and easy escape.  
  
X39’s head moved slightly to stare at him the second the door closed behind the intern, his eyes following his every motion as Sang-hyuk made his way to his chair. It was almost too easy hiding the way his heart raced with a casual smile, keeping his shoulders tall and not letting an ounce of his previous anxiety seep through. He had done this many times, had fooled many people, including himself; he could do this. Maybe a little too easily.  
  
“Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to leave you like that. Did she treat you alright?”  
  
“The tests have all been completed.”  
  
“They didn’t make you uncomfortable, did they?” X39 didn’t answer, the question referring to something he didn’t have the ability to comprehend, and Sang-hyuk breathed out a small, relieved sigh. That was normal, expected, and it was reassuring. Sang-hyuk chuckled softly as he turned to face X39 fully, his elbows on his knees as leaned forward approachably. “Sorry. Did she do anything different, or bad, to you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“That’s good.” He reached over and gently placed his hands on either side of X39’s head, his fingers brushing the tips of his hair and his thumbs resting lightly on his eyelids. X39 stayed obligingly still as Sang-hyuk checked his eyes, following along as Sang-hyuk tilted his head down to check the stitching of the synthetic skin to his real skin along the nape of his neck. He knew the intern probably checked already, but he still wanted to see for himself.  
  
A part of him also hoped to find something, _something,_ that pointed to X39’s weird behavior before.  
  
But there was nothing, the thin, inconspicuous thread the same as always, the small ridges of the artificial spine ports that ran down X39’s back feeling exactly the same. He sighed as he pushed X39 back up, flinching when his hands ran over his naked thigh.  
  
“Here, let’s get you some clothes. You must be freezing.” He made a mental note to grab some of his old clothes when he pulled out the last shirt from his desk drawer, the technicians never giving back his clothes when they took X39 away.  
  
“I do not feel cold like you.” X39 replied accordingly, immediately taking the shirt and slipping it over his head. This time was better, the movements a little less stilted as he managed to not catch the collar on his ear. He stood up, his knees moving fluidly as he put on the pair of slacks Sang-hyuk offered, his hips rotating seamlessly.  
  
If X39 didn’t mention it again, Sang-hyuk would definitely consider getting the little cracks in his back fixed.  
  
X39 sat back down when he was done, eyes never looking away from Sang-hyuk as he did so, and Sang-hyuk’s hands clenched. This was all so normal, so _easy_ , and he knew he could evade any triggering questions and step out of the room as if nothing happened. He could act just like always, ignoring problems to avoid attention. It was what he wanted to do, what he _should_ do—but he couldn’t. X39 had hinted at a self-awareness that went beyond the years of testing they had done, a comprehension level that began to develop farther than the literal. This was what they had been waiting for, what they had been killing for; he couldn’t just ignore that. Not anymore.  
  
Not only that, but…he had mentioned his father.  
  
There was more than X39 was letting on, and Sang-hyuk had the sneaking suspicion that X39 was beginning to turn that knowledge around to test him.  
  
So, despite every part of him screaming to talk about pointless things, he asked, “X39, I am going to ask you a question. Earlier, before I…left, you asked me about your replacements. Do you remember that?”  
  
That same spark appeared in X39’s eyes the moment the question left his mouth, his everything still save for the gentle rise of his lips as he answered, “Yes.”  
  
“You asked if your replacements…pleased me. Do you remember that?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why did you ask me that?” X39 didn’t answer, and Sang-hyuk backtracked. “Do you know why you asked that?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Sang-hyuk hesitated, taking a deep breath as he fought to keep his gaze level with X39’s. “Can you tell me?”  
  
“It was an observation. Your reactions to my perfect replacements were much more positive compared to when there were problems. You also voiced your desire to replace everything.” There was a sharpness to his tone that caught Sang-hyuk’s attention.  
  
“X39, I was happy because I want you to be perfect. I don’t want you to have problems, or hinder you because of faulty equipment.” X39 didn’t answer, a normal response when given nothing to respond to. The cyborgs responding to normal conversation were pretty hit or miss, sometimes responding when least expected and always silent when they were waiting for an answer. But whatever was faulty seemed to have changed this, X39 speaking up after a small bout of silence.  
  
“Does perfection please you?”  
  
Sang-hyuk stopped, surprised, before stumbling for an answer. “It’s nice…and it makes the higher-ups happy.”  
  
“Does it please you?”  
  
“…yes. I like seeing you perfect.”  
  
X39 hummed, tilting his head in a way that had Sang-hyuk spinning. “Then does it please you to replace parts of my body that no longer work the way you want?”  
  
Sang-hyuk was starting to see where X39 was heading, sighing as he racked his brain for the most pleasing answer to calm him with. “It doesn’t necessarily _please_ me. I would love it if I never had to do anything to you. But if something goes wrong and there’s a problem with you, then they wouldn’t be very happy with me.” He tried to give a laugh to imply he was joking, and when he saw X39’s eyes narrow he sighed. It seemed despite everything, he could still not recognize joking.  
  
“Are you curious about why we are always fixing you?” Sang-hyuk asked.  
  
“I do not experience curiosity like you.”  
  
“Yes, you do. You asking me questions to understand my reasoning is curiosity. Demanding an answer even when I don’t give it, is curiosity. You are curious to understand why I am always perfecting you.” X39 didn’t answer, his lips pursed, and Sang-hyuk squirmed. This was all unknown territory, and he had no idea which way to continue without alerting everyone. He was now extremely thankful the lab rooms were not bugged. “You are curious, X39. It is a good thing, a wonderful thing. You should always be curious.”  
  
“I do not care to know. My situation has nothing that arouses any sort of curiosity.”  
  
“If you don’t want to know, that’s fine. But you should still question things, learn how things work and why they are the way they are. Even though you probably are not pleased with the way I take you apart and replace pieces of you, I am here to help you develop and grow. This curiosity is a step toward that.”  
  
X39 didn’t answer right away, processing the information Sang-hyuk pretty much pulled out of his ass. It wasn’t that it wasn’t true, it was; but the idea that it was for X39’s benefit, that he was here to help him, wasn’t. With the way X39 seemed to be at the moment, telling him the truth would only cause him to shut down.  
  
“I see.”  
  
Sang-hyuk tried not to react to those two words, fought to hide how much they affected him. Instead, he slapped on a smile as he asked carefully, “Now, X39…earlier, you mentioned my father. What…what did you mean by that? Do you remember saying that?”  
  
“I remember.”  
  
“What were you trying to say?”  
  
“I do not remember.” It was clear by the way X39 glared that he did, but Sang-hyuk wasn’t going to push him. Not today.  
  
“Alright. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.” He turned away from the heavy glare boring into him to look at the empty report file opened on the computer screen, inwardly wincing. He would have to think of something to put down that didn’t give anything away about today’s session, an endeavor that would definitely take hours to accomplish. He was never the best at writing those things, and purposefully lying in a way that wouldn’t set off Joon-myeon in particular would be difficult. Joon-myeon could pick out a lie with the ease of a liar.  
  
Sang-hyuk stood up, pretending to stretch as he smiled. X39 watched him. “Okay, X39. Unfortunately, our session today is a little shorter since I…had to leave earlier. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, how does a story sound?” He didn’t mention anything about X39 having been the one to ask for it, not wanting to go into too much at once. Just the way X39 was staring, not speaking despite being asked a question he was capable of answering, showed it was already too much.  
  
When he was sure X39 wasn’t going to answer, he lifted up the front of X39’s shirt, opening the two doors to reveal the charging port underneath. He had just picked up the charging cable when X39 suddenly asked,  
  
“I would like to make a request, if it is allowed.”  
  
Sang-hyuk paused, the hand bracing X39’s chest slipping. “O-of course. What is it?”  
  
“My name.”  
  
“Your name? You mean X39?”  
  
“No.” Sang-hyuk waited patiently as X39 worked to voice his question, his brows furrowed and his lips turned down into the smallest of frowns. Sang-hyuk made sure to note down the first natural expression X39 made. Joon-myeon would definitely like that. “I have a name that I want you to call me.”  
  
“Of course!”  
  
“I want you to call me Hong-bin.” The sound of the charging cable clattering to the floor echoed against the cold tile, tears Sang-hyuk couldn’t control flooding his eyes. X39 stared right into his soul as he continued, ignoring the way his words cut through Sang-hyuk like a knife. “My subject number does not please me. I do not want you to call me that any longer.”  
  
“Where…where did you hear that name?” That name was supposed to be gone. It was supposed to have been erased along with everything else when they took him away. Sang-hyuk had accepted that he would never hear it again, never see the same man again; there was no way he could remember it.  
  
“It is a name I hear in my heart.” X39 raised a cold hand to place over the charging port, his gaze unwavering. “It is a name that I hear you calling me.”  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded shakily as he picked the charging cable back up, this time unable to keep up his smile. “It…it sounds like a nice name. I’ll remember to call you that from now on…Hong-bin.”  
  
The small smile that flashed on X39’s face was enough for Sang-hyuk to hurriedly plug him in, a sharp jolt going through X39’s entire body before he laxed, his eyes falling shut. Sang-hyuk collapsed back in his chair as he stared at the cyborg before him, his hands still shaking as he allowed himself to finally cry, the sound of Hong-bin’s name ringing in his ears.  
  
Hong-bin was his—Hong-bin had never stepped foot in this hellhole.  
  
To remember the name on his own, to ask for his name on his own…  
  
Sang-hyuk could only cry at the idea that the man from his memories was returning, at a time when he no longer wanted him back.  
  
  
It was late by the time Sang-hyuk arrived home, stopping short at the sight of Hak-yeon cleaning the kitchen counter, rubber gloves running up his arms and his bangs clipped back. It was rare for Hak-yeon to still be awake, the other almost always asleep whenever Sang-hyuk decided to finally come home, and to see him wide awake and cleaning was a new sight entirely. Sang-hyuk sighed defeatedly. Everything was deciding to change on him.  
  
Hak-yeon looked up at the sound of the door, an infectious smile growing on his lips. “Hyukkie! You’re home!” When Sang-hyuk gave no response except closing the door and slipping off his coat, Hak-yeon huffed loudly. “You know, I was so hurt when I woke up and you were already gone. You could at least say bye to me, you know. Don’t you know how important I am?  You should at least have the courtesy to give me a goodbye kiss!”  
  
It was clear he was joking, still grinning, but Sang-hyuk knew he really was hurt by him sneaking out earlier. Hak-yeon always wanted to be the one to wake him up, to see him struggle out of bed and eat breakfast and wave him goodbye. It was one of the few times they were together, and Hak-yeon waited for it, craved it, and Sang-hyuk was usually more than willing to give it to him. But last night had been hard, and Sang-hyuk had not been ready to see Hak-yeon’s bright, oblivious smile the next morning. He couldn’t handle the sound of Hak-yeon talking to him as if he was the most wonderful thing in the world when the things he had done wouldn’t even be fit to see the sun.  
  
Hak-yeon eventually grew tired of waiting for him, annoyed when Sang-hyuk continued to ignore him. “Fine,” he snapped, Sang-hyuk’s head immediately whipping around, “go ahead and be an ass. I don’t have to deal with you and your moods.” He turned back to the counter he had been meticulously cleaning, grabbing the towel and furiously scrubbing as hard as he could.  
  
Sang-hyuk dropped his bag to the floor as he made his way over to the kitchen, wordlessly wrapping his arms around Hak-yeon’s waist. He could feel Hak-yeon stiffen at the sudden touch and he tightened his hold in the hope he wouldn’t say anything, burying his face into Hak-yeon’s neck and letting out a strangled whine. Already he felt the comforting presence only Hak-yeon could give, breathing in his sweet scent and pressing forward until he could feel his arms against the cool counter. He loved Hak-yeon, loved him so much.  
  
He was his world and so much more.  
  
“Sang-hyuk?” Hak-yeon asked softly, pulling off his gloves to place his hands over Sang-hyuk’s, rubbing his thumb soothingly over his fingers. Sang-hyuk’s hum turned to a small whimper, and Hak-yeon’s thumb stopped. “Baby, what’s wrong?”  
  
“Yeonnie…” Sang-hyuk mumbled, able to feel the tears that trickled down his cheek dot Hak-yeon’s shoulder.  
  
Hak-yeon tried his best to look at him without breaking the hug, his tone full of worry. “Sang-hyuk, what happened? Did someone hurt you?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t respond, he added, “Do I need to beat someone up?”  
  
Sang-hyuk let out a strangled laugh, shaking his head as he pressed himself even closer to Hak-yeon. He wished he never had to let go. “No…nothing like that.” Hak-yeon hummed softly as he leaned back against Sang-hyuk’s broad chest, waiting patiently for Sang-hyuk to gather his thoughts. Hak-yeon knew when Sang-hyuk was thinking, when he was trying to work through the thousands of thoughts tearing through his mind, and Sang-hyuk was extremely grateful. “I just…Hak-yeonnie…I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“What happened?” Hak-yeon spoke quietly, supporting, understanding.  
  
“I met a friend…a friend I thought was gone forever.” He shifted so his wet eyes brushed against the tips of Hak-yeon’s hair, his lips catching on the edge of Hak-yeon’s ear. “He disappeared years ago, and I thought he was gone…but he came back. I…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how long he’ll stay…he could disappear again at any time and I wouldn’t have any power to stop him.” Just like how a simple update had caused parts of Hong-bin to suddenly reappear, a simple update could just as easily take him away again. There was nothing Sang-hyuk could do, and he would be powerless when it happened.  
  
“A friend…” Hak-yeon whispered, patting Sang-hyuk’s hands lovingly. Hak-yeon had never met or seen Hong-bin before, had no idea who he was, but was supportive all the same. “Do you know how long he’ll be here?” He began to sway to help calm Sang-hyuk down when he whimpered loudly.  
  
“No…no, I don’t. I don’t know anything.”  
  
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Hak-yeon soothed, Sang-hyuk able to feel Hak-yeon’s jaw moving against his cheek. “If that’s true, then you should spend as much time as possible with him. Enjoy the time you have, that way if he ever does leave, you will still have those memories.”  
  
“But what if it’s too short? What if I can’t?”  
  
“Then try your best. Your friend is important, isn’t he? Let him know how important he is, and enjoy yourself. Don’t hurt yourself like this.” He pat Sang-hyuk’s hand again to get his attention, a hint of a laugh already bubbling through his body. Sang-hyuk could feel it rumble against his chest, and he smiled even before Hak-yeon said a word. “Though you can’t spend too much time with this friend of yours. I’m friend number one, so I always come first. You can’t ever think about leaving me for him, got that?”  
  
Sang-hyuk laughed so hard his hold loosened enough that Hak-yeon broke away, his face pulled into an exaggerated pout as he slapped his shoulder. “I’m being serious! You better not ever try leaving me, got it? I’m always first!”  
  
“Yes, yes, of course,” he reassured, laughing harder when Hak-yeon started slapping him all over, loving the sound of Hak-yeon’s whines. “I promise you’re always my number one, Cha Hak-yeon. I could never think of leaving you.”  
  
He would never.  
  
It wasn’t even a possibility.  
  
He couldn’t imagine a future without Hak-yeon by his side.  
  
Hak-yeon grinned proudly at that, finally relenting in his attack to fondly ruffle Sang-hyuk’s hair. “But I mean what I said. Make sure to spend time with your friend, okay?” Sang-hyuk only nodded, pulling Hak-yeon into another hug when the other moved to turn away. Hak-yeon chuckled as he allowed himself to melt against Sang-hyuk’s chest, hugging back as Sang-hyuk began to gently sway.  
  
“Yeonnie,” he asked after a couple minutes, peeking down to see Hak-yeon blinking awake, having begun to doze away. He bit back a snarky remark, knowing Hak-yeon was probably exhausted. He wasn’t able to stay up so late like Sang-hyuk could. “Can I sleep with you again?”  
  
“Of course. But what is this, suddenly wanting to sleep with me all the time. Are you trying to hint at something?” His voice was teasing, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively, but all Sang-hyuk had the energy for was to lightly slap his forehead.  
  
Silly Hak-yeon.  
  
He didn’t realize how much Sang-hyuk would be willing to be anything he wanted.  
  
  
As he listened to Hak-yeon’s soft breathing later that night, he thought back to Hak-yeon words, to accept Hong-bin and spend as much time as he could with him. He wanted to, a part of him begged for it, and yet…. He wasn’t sure what would happen. He for sure couldn’t let anyone else know…but…  
  
… _Hong-bin_.  
  
Could it really be him?  
  
It was almost impossible, was more than likely impossible, and yet there was that small shred of hope that he lingered on. He had buried Hong-bin away for good reason, the entirety of his memories centered around the other volatile and dangerous, and knew it would only hurt him to attempt to really talk to him. But his heart beat excitedly at the idea, and he knew this again would be a time when his heart would answer to what his mind could not.


	7. Misjudgement

Sang-hyuk wasn’t surprised when he peeked into the kitchen to see it empty, the house silent save for the sweet sound of a bird’s chirping outside. With the ease of someone who had done this too many times, he pulled out food from the fridge and prepared his breakfast, clinking the pans for good measure as he placed them on the stove. He knew Hak-yeon liked to pretend to be his mother, cooking and caring for him as if he were helpless; but they both knew Sang-hyuk was more than capable to care for himself.  
   
He had already been doing it for far too long.  
   
As he waited for the egg to finish, the sizzling a stark contrast to the constant silence, Sang-hyuk turned to look down the long hallway, his father’s office door closed like always. He knew he should stay away; his legs still burned whenever he moved the wrong way. Regardless of how many times he apologized, the man had acted in such a way it made waves of uneasiness rush down Sang-hyuk’s spine. It was more than enough reason to pretend he wasn’t there until his father came back.  
   
And yet…as he slid the egg onto the steaming bowl of rice, he thought back to how the man had never stepped out of that room, completely alone. Sang-hyuk was able to go a couple days without eating anything if he really had to, but he still had to at some point. He wondered if the man was hungry or not, or lonely, sitting alone for however long his father would be gone.  
   
Knowing he would regret it, he gathered up what little courage he had to carry the warm bowl to his father’s office, hesitatingly opening the door. He peeked through the small crack to see the man staring out the window as always, so quiet and still without giving any indication he heard him. Sang-hyuk wondered if it was because he was plugged into the machine again, and debated actually going inside, not wanting to bother him if he was busy. But when he glanced down at the little bowl of rice, he stood firm as he walked over to the man’s side, his eyes immediately looking to the other’s chest.  
   
Nothing.  
   
The man looked up at him, brief recognition flitting across his face as his eyes roved over him in a silent greeting. Sang-hyuk hoped he would say something first, suddenly feeling awkward as he just stood there, fidgeting. Eventually the man’s eyes looked to the bowl in his hands and Sang-hyuk jumped on that, gushing out, “I-I made this for you, i-in case you’re hungry.”  
   
The answer was instantaneous. “I am not hungry.”  
   
“O-oh.” Sang-hyuk’s shoulders dropped as all the confidence he managed to pull together vanished, feeling so incredibly stupid to have come back. Of course, why would he be hungry? Standing here with heavy eyes boring into him, he remembered the man clearly telling him he didn’t need to eat. When the man tilted his head, blinking slowly, Sang-hyuk stumbled back, clutching the bowl to his chest and spilling clumps of rice all over the floor. “I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to bother you. Sorry.”  
   
He was ready to run out of the room when the man lifted his hand, twirling his fingers as if to brush Sang-hyuk’s leg. Sang-hyuk froze. “Your pain. Do you still feel it?”  
   
Sang-hyuk glanced down at his legs, remembering the dark blotches that still littered his skin. He shook his head hurriedly. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.”  
   
The man watched him for a few more seconds before pulling his hand back, his gaze hard. Sang-hyuk was too scared now to run away, his thoughts overtaking him as he imagined the man chasing him if he tried, his fingers locking around his neck as they slowly crushed the life out of him. He could almost feel the nails dig into him, the man’s face emotionless as he watched him die—but the man broke through them all with simple ease, his voice calm. “You came back.”  
   
It took Sang-hyuk a second to understand, mumbling out a soft, “…yes.”  
   
“You wanted to feed me.”  
   
“…yes.”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“I just thought you’d be hungry.” He kept his eyes on the floor as he stuttered out, “But if you’re not…I’ll go. I’m sorry for bothering you.” He hadn’t even had a chance to turn around when the man shot up from his chair, his height and mere presence enough to make Sang-hyuk stay in place.  
   
“Han Sang-hyuk.”  
   
“Y-yes?” The man’s eyes narrowed when Sang-hyuk took a step back, jolting when he felt the wall come up behind him.  
   
“Do you insist on feeding me?”  
   
“Ah…no, no, y-you should eat. I know I get hungry after a while, and you should too.” He blinked when the man’s hands slowly moved up, holding out as if waiting for something. It took Sang-hyuk a second to realize what he was doing, biting his lip as he carefully gave the bowl of rice to him. For a short second, Sang-hyuk felt his fingers brush against the other’s, once again feeling the slimy residue slide between their skin and lingering over his own. He tried to hide his reaction by slapping on an awkward smile, secretly wiping his fingers on his pants.  
   
“I never made anything for other people before, so I’m not sure how it’ll taste…” he trailed off when the man ignored him in favor of the food, absentmindedly sitting down as he stared at the bowl in a mixture of curiosity and confusion. He watched the man poke at the rice, rubbing the grains between his fingers, and Sang-hyuk handed him the spoon he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. “It might be a little cold now. I can heat it up, though it might be mushy…”  
   
“It does not matter.” The man took a few small bites, his lack of expression not letting Sang-hyuk know what he thought, before looking up at him. “Are you not tired of standing?”  
   
“O-oh.” He glanced around the room for somewhere to sit, deciding it best to sit on the floor when the only other chair was his father’s. He would never sit in that. The man watched him but said nothing, his attention distracted by trying to eat every single piece of rice. Sang-hyuk pulled his knees under his chin, picking at the carpet as he tried to suppress the hiss at how his bruises burned. “Does it taste okay?”  
   
“I cannot taste, so no matter the taste, it would be fine.”  
   
“You can’t taste?”  
   
“I cannot taste nor feel, so anything you do to me will be pointless.” Sang-hyuk blinked at the slight waver in the other’s voice, the brief reveal of a kind of pain he hadn’t seen since the time his father first took his mother away. Sang-hyuk had never felt that way himself, but he had witnessed it enough, seen how it painfully destroyed his father until only a shadow remained. Despite the way the man kept himself blank and refused to let Sang-hyuk in for even a second, it was obvious that he felt every bit as lonely and hurt as Sang-hyuk did. He was lonely, and he was sad.  
   
While he was nowhere near as strong as Hak-yeon, Sang-hyuk relied on what he knew as he wordlessly crawled onto his knees and took the half-finished bowl out of the man’s hands, silently placing it on the floor. The man was compliant, if not confused, as Sang-hyuk tugged on his hands, guiding him to sit on the floor with him. He was a bit awkward as he did so, his arms and legs cracking loudly as he moved, but he eventually was able to sit across from Sang-hyuk. It was once he was settled that the man finally spoke, his voice empty, “What are you doing?”  
   
Sang-hyuk thought to what Hak-yeon would say whenever Sang-hyuk would ask that same question, always confused by whatever Hak-yeon thought up that day to cheer him up. “I just wanted to be closer to you.”  
   
The man frowned. “I do not understand.”   
   
“I…I want to tell you I understand—the loneliness.”  
   
“I am not-”  
   
“I can hear it in your voice.” The man fell silent as he stared at Sang-hyuk, his incredibly straight posture and stiff arms laxing just the slightest bit. “You sound sad.”  
   
“Sad?” There was no anger there, only a soft lilt at the end to show his confusion, a confusion that Sang-hyuk understood so well. There had been a time when Sang-hyuk’s voice was just as uncertain, when he believed there was nothing wrong with how every second alone made his chest cave in. When he stared at this man who seemed to have never been able to escape, Sang-hyuk felt eternally thankful for Hak-yeon’s loving persistence.  
   
Sang-hyuk decided not to linger too long on things the other didn’t understand, instead asking, “What’s your name?”  
   
“X39.” It was said so quickly, sounding so practiced and natural, that Sang-hyuk had to take a second to think of a response.  
   
“Just that? Just X39?” The man didn’t say anything, just staring, and Sang-hyuk pulled back. “Sorry. It…it’s just different.”  
   
The man tilted his head back, a vibrating hum that didn’t sound completely human slipping through the air as he thought back. Sang-hyuk waited patiently as he did so, trying to be as inviting as possible to get him to open up. He wondered if this was what Hak-yeon felt like whenever trying to talk with Sang-hyuk when Sang-hyuk felt like dying. He would have to apologize if that was so.  
   
“My master…he called me X39. It was simple.” There was a hesitance at the end, a pause that Sang-hyuk jumped on.  
   
“Did he ever call you anything else?”  
   
“He...” The man picked his head back up to stare down at Sang-hyuk, eyes wide and open. “My memories are a mess, and I cannot remember much of anything. But there was once…I remembered a name. He cried when he heard it.” Right there, Sang-hyuk could see the slight rise of the lip when he spoke, his eyes flicking down to his hands.  
   
“What did you say?”  
   
“…Hong-bin.”  
   
“…can I call you that?” The man’s eyes hardened, sending a blazing glare that had apologizes at the ready, clogging Sang-hyuk’s throat until he saw the small nod. His shoulders fell in relief. “Okay. I’ll call you Hong-bin, and you can call me Sang-hyuk.” Hong-bin nodded again, and Sang-hyuk chanced a real smile. Hong-bin kept his eyes on Sang-hyuk’s face as he tentatively lifted his lips in response, a lopsided smile that showed his teeth and brightened his face. It was such an emotional response, a happy expression that made Sang-hyuk smile even wider, and Sang-hyuk wished it was how he always looked. Hong-bin looked really nice when he smiled.  
   
Sang-hyuk handed over the bowl of rice after a few more awkward seconds of smiling, racking his brains as he tried to think of what Hak-yeon would do next. Hak-yeon was always so smooth, always knew what to do or say to make Sang-hyuk feel so warm. Sang-hyuk was nothing in comparison, just a tiny boy that half the time was too afraid to look in the mirror. He had no idea what to do to make Hong-bin feel better.  
   
He waited until Hong-bin started eating again before attempting to ask, “Are you helping my dad?”  
   
Hong-bin paused mid-bite, his eyes narrowed. “No.”  
   
“Then why are you here?”  
   
“I am not allowed to answer that.”  
   
“Are you going to stay for a long time?”  
   
“No.”  
   
Sang-hyuk frowned, discouraged with how disinterested Hong-bin seemed to be in keeping conversation, not even looking at him anymore. He decided to just let Hong-bin eat and enjoy the silence as he leaned back against the wall, looking out the window at the big, blue sky above.  
   
There had been so many times he imagined himself as a bird, flying as high and free as he could with nothing to shackle him down. When he was first locked in his room, his mother pushing him in and his father holding the key, he envisioned himself one day breaking through and escaping with fervored joy. As the years passed, his dream never disappeared despite reality slowly sinking its teeth into the very center of his bones, imagining grabbing Hak-yeon’s hand and running away together. But as he listened to Hong-bin and thought about who and what he was, he could feel that dream swiftly fading away, the flapping of his strong wings softening to flailing arms, crashing so hard and fast to the ground.  
   
If Hong-bin was what Sang-hyuk would be, _could_ be, was there really any future for him besides living the rest of his days in this little house? Was there ever going to be another person that he would get to see besides his parents, besides Hak-yeon? He had always been afraid of the future and the unknown; but he still waited for it, curious as to what it could bring.  
   
…but would anything really come?  
   
He hadn’t realized he started crying until he felt something brush his cheeks, flinching away to see Hong-bin on his knees, his thumb dotted with Sang-hyuk’s tears. Hong-bin’s brow was furrowed as he shoved his thumb in Sang-hyuk’s face, the fingers bracing against the floor white. “You are crying.”  
   
“I-I am?” he asked, wiping at his cheeks to find them soaked, his eyes burning as he choked out a sob. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He avoided Hong-bin’s attempt to touch him as he sniffled, drying his cheeks with his sleeve. “Sorry.”  
   
“Did I cause you to cry?” Hong-bin’s voice was cold, sounding as if he was only asking about the weather, and it caused another wave of involuntary tears to cloud Sang-hyuk’s eyes.  
   
His future really was bleak.  
   
There would never be an escape for him.  
   
“No, you didn’t do anything, Hong-bin.” He had to eventually push Hong-bin to sit back down, the other set on wiping Sang-hyuk’s face and his tears. He tried to distract him with a smile that did nothing but make Hong-bin try harder, holding out his thumb as if to show Sang-hyuk the tears dried there. He pretended not to see as he pushed Hong-bin’s hand away, each utterance of ‘I’m okay’ and ‘don’t worry’ cracking away at his smile until new tears washed the pieces away. “I promise I’m okay, don’t worry. Sorry.”  
   
“Why do you cry?”  
   
Sang-hyuk hesitated, looking up to see Hong-bin’s completely serious expression and could barely let out a shaky breath, suddenly so cold. “Because I’m sad.” Hong-bin nodded as if he understood, finally tucking his thumb into a fist in thought. Sang-hyuk hoped that would be the end of the conversation, not wanting to delve anymore into memories he and Hak-yeon had worked so hard to bury, when Hong-bin spoke again, slow and unsure.  
   
“Sad…you said I appeared sad. I did not cry.” Sang-hyuk jumped when Hong-bin casually reached up and poked himself in the eye. He couldn’t help the shudder running through him when Hong-bin’s only reaction was to blink, frowning. He swiftly stopped his hand when Hong-bin went to do it again.  
   
“Have you ever cried before?”  
   
“Not that I am able to remember.”  
   
“You’ve never cried before?” Sang-hyuk frowned when Hong-bin shook his head, eyes running over the other’s empty gaze and lack of expression, finding it not too surprising if it were true. “Not even to make yourself feel better?”  
   
“Even if that were true, I would not know. I am not able to understand emotions, so ‘feeling better’ would not be something I could do.”  
   
“You can’t understand emotions?” Hong-bin nodded, and Sang-hyuk scrunched up his face in disbelief. He supposedly couldn’t taste, couldn’t feel, and now couldn’t understand emotions—did someone like that really exist? “Do you at least know what they are? Like if you see it, do you know what it is?” When Hong-bin only frowned, unknowingly answering Sang-hyuk’s question, Sang-hyuk decided to try something.  
   
“If you see this,” he gave Hong-bin a big smile, poking his cheeks up to make it appear even wider, “do you know what I’m feeling?” Hong-bin shook his head, but Sang-hyuk knew he had his full attention, the empty bowl forgotten at their feet. His stomach clenching uncomfortably, Sang-hyuk turned his smile into a heavy frown, his fingers tugging at the edges. “What about this? Do you know?”  
   
“I recognize the expression, but I do not know what you are trying to convey.” Sang-hyuk snorted when Hong-bin tried to copy him, pinching his cheeks and moving them around to try smiling. Hong-bin glared, and Sang-hyuk only laughed harder.  
   
“It looks like you know some. Are you angry I’m laughing?”  
   
“Angry?”  
   
“Yeah. You always look at me like this.” Sang-hyuk pushed down his brow in an attempt at the glare Hong-bin always used. That seemed to surprise him, Hong-bin’s fingers making their way to forehead and doing the same thing, his movements growing more uncertain each time. Sang-hyuk laughed again, swatting Hong-bin’s hands away from his face. “Here, I’ll make it simple.”  
   
He could feel Hong-bin’s eyes following his every movement as he grabbed his own cheeks, shaking them around to make sure Hong-bin was watching. “If you see a smile like this,” he moved his cheeks up, “then I’m happy. If you see a frown like this,” he yanked down, “then I’m sad. Do you get it?” Hong-bin nodded slowly, unblinking, and Sang-hyuk giggled. “And like earlier, if you see a face like this,” he exaggeratedly scrunched his face up into the angriest face he could muster, imitating his father, “then I’m angry. Like super, super angry.”  
   
Hong-bin silently felt along his own cheek, pushing every so often as if testing. “Human emotions are…difficult.”  
   
Sang-hyuk sobered a bit at the honesty in the other’s voice, nodding solemnly. “They are. It’s hard when you don’t have a lot of chances to talk to other people and practice. Did you have anyone to practice with?”  
   
“No. My master tried to teach me but could not. He concluded it to be impossible.”  
   
Sang-hyuk conveniently ignored the word ‘master’, not wanting to think deeper into what that could imply. “Nothing’s impossible, only hard. I saw you do it before—here, copy me.” Sang-hyuk smiled brightly, not moving until Hong-bin tentatively followed along. He was slow as he changed his expression to any face he could think of, Hong-bin always trailing behind with a crude reenactment of the same idea, and was surprised to find his earlier discomfort gone almost completely. While Hong-bin still exuded the aura of someone to avoid and stared with the intention of someone who had seen too much, Sang-hyuk found him to be an incredibly normal human being. Strange, but normal.  
   
Just like himself.  
   
He stopped when he noticed Hong-bin just squishing his face, his lips jutted out and his eyes crossed, and Sang-hyuk burst out laughing. Hong-bin followed suit, a distorted sound making its way out of his throat that sounded like a dying seal. They both stopped, Hong-bin’s eyes wide in shock, and Sang-hyuk slapped his arm supportively.  
   
“See? You can do it. You just need to practice.” He missed the way Hong-bin tried to say something as he shifted onto his knees. “You notice how I smile when I laugh? That’s because I’m happy. I laugh when I smile. So if you laugh like that, then you’re happy.” Hong-bin nodded, attempting to laugh again, and Sang-hyuk pushed him encouragingly. He was about to try and get him to cry when his fingers ran across the floor, feeling forgotten clumps of rice that had by now dried into the floor. He cursed softly, his eyes widening as he saw rice all over the floor, Hong-bin apparently not the cleanest eater. The spoon was stuck to the carpet.  
   
“What is wrong?” Hong-bin asked when Sang-hyuk started to rip the food off the floor as best he could.  
   
The delicate bubble that had encased them in that moment was gone, reality once again crushing Sang-hyuk as he remembered where they were, remembered what he was doing and how dangerous it all was. Like an old friend, fear embraced him and guided his body, rushing him to erase any trace that he’d been there.   
   
“I’m not supposed to be in here; if my father sees this, he’ll be extremely angry with me.” He grimaced when half the carpet threads came away with the spoon, hoping his father wouldn’t notice as he placed it inside the bowl. He glanced up to see Hong-bin staring at him, his eyebrows moving up and down and his face scrunched into a pout. He grimaced. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s not your fault. I…I have to clean this.”  
   
He hurriedly finished picking up all the rice and ran out of the room, leaving Hong-bin sitting confused on the floor. He knew he should explain better, especially after finally getting Hong-bin to open up and express himself, but fear was a powerful thing. It only proved why Sang-hyuk could never be like Hak-yeon, could never be strong enough to help anyone else. How could he help anyone else when he couldn’t even help himself?  
   
He was in the middle of furiously scrubbing at the spoon in the kitchen sink when he felt something hovering behind him, biting his lip when a quick glance revealed it to be Hong-bin. A string of incoherent curses ran through his head, remembering his father reminding him and his mother that Hong-bin wasn’t supposed to leave the office, that they weren’t supposed to go anywhere him. His father would surely know Hong-bin left the room, and Hong-bin probably would have no problem telling about how Sang-hyuk broke the rules.    
   
He _knew_ he would regret going back. He was regretting with every fiber of his being.  
   
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, refusing to look back when Hong-bin didn’t answer. “Go back inside.”  
   
“Are you angry?” Hong-bin asked after some time, the spoon clattering to the bottom of the sink. Hong-bin tried again when Sang-hyuk didn’t answer. “Your face, I can only tell from your face.”  
   
Sang-hyuk slowly turned off the water, turning around with tears in his eyes and his heart hammering against his chest. Hong-bin was as expressionless as ever, his eyes the only way Sang-hyuk could tell he was waiting. “No. I’m not angry. I…I’m scared.”  
   
“Scared?”  
   
Sang-hyuk fidgeted as he idly dried his hands on his pants, trying his best to stay calm. “Y-yeah. I’m scared of my father.” His eyes flitted to the front door, almost waiting for his father to walk in that second, and Hong-bin turned his head to try and see what he was looking at. “He’ll be the one that’s angry if he knows I talked to you.”  
   
Hong-bin turned back to Sang-hyuk, humming. “Yes. They want to keep me isolated.”  
   
Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure what exactly the other meant, but agreed nonetheless. “He likes to keep his work a secret.” He was unable to meet Hong-bin’s eye as he continued, feeling as if he was stabbing a knife in his heart. “I wasn’t supposed to talk to you.”  
   
“You want to pretend you never saw me.”  
   
Sang-hyuk winced at the accusing tone in the other’s voice, nodding guiltily.  
   
Hong-bin didn’t say anything at first, the silence cushioned by the overwhelming humidity from the afternoon heat, the whole house feeling as if it was on fire. Having missed the majority of the fire while sitting in the shade of his father’s office, Sang-hyuk could already feel sweat collecting on his skin the longer they stood there, Hong-bin’s gaze another heat wave on its own. All the apologies he wanted to say died in his throat, leaving him with nothing more than a simple, “I’m sorry.”  
   
“I understand,” Hong-bin said finally, nothing in his tone or posture indicating if he actually did or not. “If that is what you wish, then you should clean this too. Your father will know otherwise.”  
   
Sang-hyuk blinked confusedly at him until Hong-bin pulled his shirt over his head and opened the two doors Sang-hyuk had momentarily forgotten about. Sang-hyuk wasn’t given much time to marvel at the metal underneath when Hong-bin clicked open a latch over where his stomach should be. He opened another little door to reveal a small plastic bag inside, taking it out to show Sang-hyuk the breakfast he had eaten earlier. Sang-hyuk’s mouth fell open in amazement, suddenly understanding why Hong-bin had insisted on not eating earlier.  
   
Hong-bin’s lips twitched up at Sang-hyuk’s reaction. “If your father finds this, he will be angry.”  
   
Sang-hyuk snapped back to reality as he mechanically took the bag, dumping its contents into the wastebasket and washing it in the sink. Hong-bin stood next to him all the while, his whole body exposed and open like a box, and for some reason, it all seemed normal. He shivered at the idea.  
   
Sang-hyuk awkwardly handed back the bag to him when he was done, unsure of what to do as Hong-bin closed himself back up. Once Hong-bin was fully dressed again, Sang-hyuk asked carefully, “Did…did my father say anything about when he was coming back?”  
   
“No.” He could see Hong-bin try and contort his face into different expressions before falling back to his neutral one, empty. “It will not be long.”  
   
“Oh...okay. Then you should probably go back before he gets home.” He gave Hong-bin a slight nudge when the other made no move to leave, frowning when Hong-bin only tilted his head. Tilting his head—it was all he ever did. Sang-hyuk wondered how Hong-bin could convey so much in a simple motion that he couldn’t otherwise. He wondered if Hong-bin even knew he did it. “Really, Hong-bin. You don’t want him angry at you.”  
   
Hong-bin watched Sang-hyuk attempt to push him a little longer before humming, shoving him away a little harder than he probably meant to. “I will go. But I would like to make a request.”  
   
   
Sang-hyuk stood in a daze as he clumsily clutched the cable Hong-bin gave him to his chest, watching the other fix up the machine Sang-hyuk had unplugged earlier. Hong-bin hadn’t told him yet what he needed or why he requested his help, and Sang-hyuk could only conclude that it was a difficult task. It wasn’t hard to realize that Hong-bin putting together this machine was what had caused the loud noise when Hak-yeon was over, flinching whenever Hong-bin flipped a switch that clanged piercingly.  
   
He jumped when Hong-bin finally sat down, easily falling back into the chair and appearing just like he had before Sang-hyuk came in. With the way Hong-bin stared at him without saying a word, Sang-hyuk stuttered against the worry that caused his fingers to tremble.  
   
“W-what do you need me to do?”  
   
“I need you to plug me in. My battery is low.” Hong-bin lifted his shirt up enough to open his chest before Sang-hyuk could fully comprehend what he said, pointing at the hole when Sang-hyuk only blinked confusedly.  
   
“Like this?” He cautiously placed his hand on Hong-bin’s shoulder, goosebumps shooting up his arm when his thumb caught the smooth edge of skin over Hong-bin’s metal chest. He held up the cable to the hole, trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to put it in, when Hong-bin hummed. The sound was a low purr that vibrated right into Sang-hyuk’s ear, and Sang-hyuk was suddenly extremely aware of how close the two of them were, Hong-bin’s lips beside his ear and his nose trailing against Sang-hyuk’s hairline. He swallowed nervously when Hong-bin spoke, his lips soft against Sang-hyuk’s prickly skin.  
   
“Are you not afraid?”  
   
Sang-hyuk had to pull away at that, his mouth running while his mind raced to catch up. “A-afraid of what?” Hong-bin eyed the charger in his hands, and once Sang-hyuk understood, he hurriedly shook his head. “N-no. You’re not that scary.” Saying he wasn’t at all would be lying, and Sang-hyuk didn’t want to lie.  
   
Hong-bin hummed again, his fingers running up to cover Sang-hyuk’s hand, helping him align the charger correctly. His voice flowed like silk, warm and soft in a way that went against the cold, stiff manner he always held himself. “My peculiarity; does it really not bother you? Feeling metal where natural life should be, the idea that I have to rely on a machine to keep me running; does that not bother you?”  
   
Sang-hyuk shook his head again, calmer now. Yes, Hong-bin really was normal. Strange, but normal.  
   
“No, there’s nothing wrong with it. My mother is kinda like you. She has to plug her arm in sometimes.”  
   
He didn’t expect Hong-bin’s lurching reaction, his hand clasping around Sang-hyuk’s wrist and clenching so tightly Sang-hyuk could already feel the bruises forming. “Really? There is another like myself? Where is she?”  
   
“She’s not exactly like you. Just her arm.”  
   
That didn’t deter the other in the least. “Where is she? How much does she understand?”  
   
“She’s in her room. She doesn’t come out unless my dad’s home.” Hong-bin didn’t look like he understood, and Sang-hyuk groaned as he tried to make words come out. Sometimes speaking was so difficult. “She comes out sometimes, to see me. But not often. She doesn’t do much when my father’s gone; sometimes I forget she’s there.”  
   
“So, she is not here?”  
   
“No, she is. Just…she won’t come out. You probably won’t meet her.” It was hard explaining something that was so normal for him to another. He remembered when Hak-yeon first saw his mother, and how much he didn’t like her or her lack of affection to Sang-hyuk. Sang-hyuk thought she treated him well enough, but Hak-yeon hated it, and he hated leaving him alone with her. But she was his mother and he knew she loved him, so that was all he needed.  
   
Hong-bin finally let the subject drop as he let go of Sang-hyuk’s wrist, both of them aware of how red the skin was. Hong-bin dropped his hands in his lap. “I hurt you.”  
   
“It’s okay.”  
   
“I gave you pain. You are sad.” Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to ask what he meant when he saw the exaggerated frown on the other’s face, realizing he was copying him. He hurriedly slapped on the biggest smile he could, shaking his head.  
   
“No, I was just thinking. I’m not sad. You didn’t hurt me.” He waved his hand around just to make sure he got it, and the frown slowly disappeared. Sang-hyuk paused when Hong-bin’s frown gave way to a wide-eyed, naively trusting expression, a look he himself had seen so many times; he subconsciously put his hand on Hong-bin’s head, spreading his finger out through the thick, dark locks. Hong-bin stayed completely still as he did so, staring silently, and Sang-hyuk shuddered.  
   
Hong-bin…this man…he had had so much happen to him, a rough scar that Sang-hyuk had managed to miss peeking out from under Hong-bin’s bangs.  
   
Hong-bin gently tugged Sang-hyuk’s hand away when he tried touching the scar, continuing to hold it as he said softly, “If your father is not here tomorrow, would you unplug me?”  
   
Sang-hyuk took a moment to respond, nodding just as softly. “Of course.”  
   
Hong-bin’s small smile was what Sang-hyuk remembered later that night, lying under the covers and imagining the vast, starry sky outside.  
   
The smile he gave before completely shutting down once the machine took over.


	8. Unkempt

_“You should spend as much time as possible with him. Enjoy the time you have.”_  
  
Sang-hyuk worried his bottom lip as Hak-yeon’s words repeated continuously in his head, nearly missing getting on the elevator before the doors shut closed. He tried his best to ignore the two girls standing next to him, staring at him, staying close to the wall as he kept his eyes glued to the floor.  
  
Hong-bin…how much of him was here? How much did he remember?  
  
…how long would it last?  
  
Sang-hyuk had learned long ago, long before he even stepped into this lab, that nothing good came from having hope. Hope only made the pain hurt more, made it last longer, and that disappointment was something Sang-hyuk avoided with all his might. Even if Hong-bin was back, had all his memories and could recite every conversation with the accuracy that Sang-hyuk still secretly could, who was to say he wouldn’t forget it all again? It had been a simple press of a button that had wiped it all away; there was nothing Hong-bin could promise to stay. He could disappear again as suddenly as he reappeared.  
  
Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure he wanted to try and open the can of worms that could explode in his face as easily as the sun could rise.  
  
The break room was empty when he went to log himself in, having arrived a little later since he made sure to stay long enough Hak-yeon could send him off. He hated whenever he made Hak-yeon angry, wanting to enjoy the very little time they had together. He knew seeing him briefly in the morning wasn’t enough, making a mental note to work longer nights for the next couple weeks to try and get that dinner Hak-yeon asked him.  
  
He was always able to tell when Hak-yeon started to dim, lonely and saddened when the only highlight of his day was Sang-hyuk coming home. He tried to give him days to go out and enjoy life, to shop or go sightseeing or just take a walk, but he knew all Hak-yeon really wanted was to spend time with him. And that was the one thing he couldn’t give.  
  
He was on his way to X3— _Hong-bin’s_ —room when an obnoxiously annoyed groan echoed down the cluttered hallways, only catching Sang-hyuk’s attention because of where it came from. He continued towards Hong-bin’s room only to make a sharp left, finding a frustrated intern clutching a clipboard in his hand as he tore angrily at his hair. It was not a sight normally found in the dreary lab, the normal air full of fixed detachment, though Sang-hyuk could guess why when he saw T52’s room behind him.  
  
He sighed as he walked up to the intern, pretending not to notice when the intern instinctively flinched before bowing politely at him, an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks. “Y-yes, sir?”  
  
Sang-hyuk glanced at T52’s door briefly before smiling, trying to lighten the situation. “You got assigned to work with T52?”  
  
The intern nodded with a long groan, a reaction he tried to hurriedly hide behind his clipboard. “Y-yeah. I was put to help Professor Park, but he just makes me do all the work and then report to him later. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing half the time and T52 is just…”  
  
“Difficult,” Sang-hyuk finished, and the intern nodded thankfully. “Well…T52 is special. He’s got problems and has to be dealt with…carefully.”  
  
“I know that, but everything I try just ends up not working. Sometimes I think it’s on purpose.” Sang-hyuk knew the last part wasn’t meant for him to hear, but he did and it made his lips purse all the same. He thought briefly of Hong-bin before shaking his head, hardening his voice for effect.  
  
“You know the subjects don’t have that kind of autonomy. Even if T52 is different, there’s nothing that would allow him to purposefully do things to annoy you.” When the intern did nothing but glare angrily at the floor, Sang-hyuk snatched the clipboard from his hands, ignoring the other’s hurried yelp as he flipped through the sheets.  
  
_No progress._  
  
_Memory restarts after 1.5 minutes. No progress._  
  
_Forgets names, asks each time memory restarts. No progress._  
  
_No progress._  
  
_No progress._  
  
Sang-hyuk sighed softly as he handed back the clipboard, signaling with a small nod of his head to follow as he walked right back into T52’s room. The room was exactly as he remembered it, an exact copy of Hong-bin’s down to the small bed in the corner, T52 sitting in the same position Hong-bin would.  
  
T52’s head snapped up at the sound of their entrance, a bright, wide smile splitting across his face as he waved cheerfully. “Hi Sang-hyuk! Hi…” his voice trailed off as he looked to the intern, genuine confusion in his eyes as he tilted his head in thought, “…uh, is this a new guy, Sang-hyukkie?”  
  
“My name’s Chan-sik,” the intern bit out, the small whine in his voice showing his frustration, no real anger.  
  
T52 grinned again, waving all the same. “Hi Sang-hyuk! Hi Chan-sik!”  
  
Sang-hyuk smiled kindly as he sat down in the desk chair, leaning back in the relaxed position that always made T52 more comfortable. It was imperative to do whatever it took to get as much out of him as possible before he restarted. T52 watched him all the while, bouncing on the bed and nearly bursting at the seams as he waited for Sang-hyuk to give him permission to speak. Sang-hyuk paused for just a second, seeing Hong-bin’s eyes in the cyborg before him, and taking the time to see just how different the two were from each other.  
  
“You can speak,” Sang-hyuk assented, chuckling fondly when he let out a long gasp, pulling up his legs to cross them casually.  
  
“I wish you would come to work with me more,” T52 whined, patting the bed excitedly as his eyes flickered to Chan-sik. “I keep getting all these people who treat me like a machine. I liked when you told me stories.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I wish I could,” Sang-hyuk said placatingly, matching T52’s expressions to keep him going. It was much easier working with T52 in this way, the latter having had much more time to learn and adjust than Hong-bin. He was much farther along with mimicking expressions and knowing proper responses; it would’ve been perfect if they hadn’t messed it up. “I’m always so busy with X39.” T52’s eyes narrowed as his eyes swept over Sang-hyuk’s sad nod, taking in his hunched shoulders and slouched posture to decide on the proper response, sighing regrettably.  
  
“Poor X39. He always has problems. But I do not have problems. I am perfect, right, Sang-hyuk?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
T52 preened at the compliment, the same reaction he always gave when praised, and Sang-hyuk felt a resigned fondness at the sweet naivety behind it. He remembered how Won-shik described T52 before his memory was wiped, how resentful and full of hatred he had been despite allowing them to experiment on him, his fear the only thing keeping him from lashing out. But once they wiped him, there was nothing to fuel that hatred, the latent kindness left behind making him extremely welcoming to anyone that approached him. There was so much wrong with the situation, and Sang-hyuk always felt sorry when he saw him; it was part of the reason he avoided anything to do with him.  
  
T52 reached out and pat Sang-hyuk’s hand, grinning. “Sang-hyuk, do you know what happened to Moon-hyuk? He has not come by in a while.”  
  
Sang-hyuk debated telling him Moon-hyuk died years ago, but decided against it. No point ruining his mood, even if only for a while. “Sorry, he’s just very busy. You know how he is.”  
  
T52 nodded, matching Sang-hyuk’s slouched shoulders. “He is always so busy. I never see him anymore.”  
  
“Yeah, me neither. I’ll let him know you’re asking about him.”  
  
T52 opened his mouth, the beginning of a thank you already on his lips, when his body suddenly stiffened, both Sang-hyuk and Chan-sik already prepared. They stayed silent as T52’s body and mind whirled to catch up to where the corrupted programming was already spreading, his body trembling as his slack jaw snapped shut. Having seen this many times before, Sang-hyuk recognized the second T52’s eyes flashed anew, giving a welcoming smile when recognition erased the confusion away.  
  
“Sang-hyuk? When did you get here?” He looked between Sang-hyuk and Chan-sik, hesitating. “Who is he?”  
  
“Oh, this is Chan-sik,” Sang-hyuk said casually, gesturing back before Chan-sik had the chance to snap again. “He’s the intern that’s scheduled to work with you.”  
  
T52 nodded, immediately losing interest in the intern to talk to Sang-hyuk instead. “It has been a while since you have been by, did you come to see me?” Sang-hyuk noted the noticeable lack of excitement this time, T52 sitting calm and collected as he took Sang-hyuk’s sudden appearance in stride. It was a mystery how T52 worked through which mood to use when talking, his constant restarting rendering any kind of test results useless.  
  
“Not this time. I was just helping Chan-sik with something. But I’ll make sure to come by again.”  
  
T52 didn’t answer right away, only watching as Sang-hyuk stood up, signaling Chan-sik to leave, and his hand caught the edge of Sang-hyuk’s jacket. His fingers were loose and slipped off the second Sang-hyuk moved, unable to understand how to grab with fingers that couldn’t feel, but Sang-hyuk waited all the same. “Please try to visit more. I am alone.”  
  
Sang-hyuk felt his heart clench at the amount of emotion T52 managed to squeeze into his voice, a feat that took years to master yet still struggled to express. He took T52’s hand in his and made sure the other saw. “I promise I’ll come by soon.” T52 smiled appreciatively before his whole body stiffened, his face slack, and Sang-hyuk knew it was time to go.  
  
He peeled T52’s fingers off him as he hurriedly pushed Chan-sik out of the room, closing the door behind them before T52 would have a chance to realize they’d even been there. He could see Chan-sik brimming with questions, staring at him with a kind of idolism he hated, and he pretended not to notice as he focused on fixing the report Chan-sik had filled out earlier. It wasn’t that there was no progress; there was always progress.  
  
It was that no one could see it.  
  
“T52 knows you? Did you work with it before?” Chan-sik asked, deciding to ask anyway. “I’ve never seen it recognize anyone like that before.”  
  
Sang-hyuk grimaced as he looked up, scowling at the sparkle in Chan-sik’s eyes. It was clear what kind of intern the boy in front of him was, one with actual interest in what they were doing, no force required to get him to do any job they assigned him. Sang-hyuk couldn’t stand people like him the most. “It doesn’t take any special exercise for him to remember you; he was already like that when I met him.”  
  
“But I’ve been working with it for over a month and it still doesn’t remember me.”  
  
“Because you treat him like a machine. T52 was once human and still has parts of him that cling to that. Even if he doesn’t act like it, if you treat him the way you would anyone else, he’ll respond better.” When Chan-sik opened his mouth to retort, he quickly added, “You have to give him time. His memory problems don’t render him unable to retain new memories. You just have to give him time.”  
  
Chan-sik shook his head confusedly, stuttering over his words as he tried to argue while being as polite as possible. An ingrained habit burned into every intern. “B-but that doesn’t make sense. It’s still a machine; treating it like a human won’t get any better results than treating it like a machine. H-how can treating it nicely help? Professor Park-”  
  
“If Professor Park told you to do what you’re doing, then keep with that. Don’t ask me if you have no intentions of following.”  
  
“T-that’s not what I meant-”  
  
“I know.” He handed back the clipboard when Chan-sik only stared wide-eyed in response, his shock cutting away at Sang-hyuk’s crumbling armor. “Just…keep at it. Remember, you’re getting to actually work with a cyborg and get good experience. There are a lot of other interns that would love to be where you are right now.” _Even if it kills them,_ he thought to himself, deciding it best not to say that out loud. When the boy’s wide, shock-filled eyes still stared at him, he added awkwardly, “He’ll remember you eventually. Just give him time.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Chan-sik whispered, unable to look him in the eye as he bowed deeply, and Sang-hyuk left with as much dignity as he could muster.  
  
  
Sang-hyuk kept his head held high as he walked into Hong-bin’s room, letting the incessant sounds of the lab roll off his back and bring him into reverberating silence. Everything was the same, nothing out of place or order, Hong-bin sitting in his usual seat with the charger plugged into chest. As he silently unplugged Hong-bin and waited for him to wake up, he knew there was no more time to think about what he should do, if he should listen to Hak-yeon or pretend nothing happened. He was already here, Hong-bin already blinking awake and staring at him—there was no choice anymore.  
  
“Good morning, Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin greeted monotonously, nothing in his voice signaling he remembered yesterday. Sang-hyuk’s fingers trembled as he moved his lips in a wordless attempt at a greeting, his brain doing whatever it could to stop him before he could make another mistake.  
  
“Good morning…H-Hong-bin,” he finally squeaked out, looking up in foolish hope when Hong-bin’s eyes flashed at the name. His breath stopped the moment a smile spread across Hong-bin’s lips, so calm compared to the exuberant one T52 gave him just an hour earlier. It was amazing how much could be conveyed in just a simple lift of the lips, something most people overlooked because of _how_ simple it was, and Sang-hyuk could feel himself tearing up just at the sight of it. Hong-bin was smiling, and he was smiling at _him._  
  
He couldn’t ignore it.  
  
“You…you’re smiling.”  
  
Hong-bin’s smile stayed lax as he tilted his head to the side, his stiff shoulders and tight knuckles a stark contrast to the softness of his expression. “Yes.”  
  
All the questions of where Hong-bin had learned it, when, why, and _how_ raced through Sang-hyuk’s head, though he voiced none of them as he only smiled back, matching the air in the way Hong-bin had done so many times before. So, instead, he continued as if this was normal, as if there was nothing strange in the world. “It looks nice. You should smile more often.”  
  
“I will try.”  
  
Sang-hyuk waited a few more seconds to see if Hong-bin would say anything else before awkwardly going through the daily tests, trying to find some sort of foundation to stand on. Everything was suddenly so different, despite it all appearing the same, that Sang-hyuk no longer knew which way was up; if anything, he wanted to find something he could latch onto, even if it wasn’t normal. He needed a base, but…  
  
…there _was_ no base.  
  
Each time Sang-hyuk gave a simple command and pressed down against fake skin, Hong-bin would follow along willingly, almost appreciatively. There were times when he would move his arm or leg before Sang-hyuk even told him to, as if expecting it, and it would take Sang-hyuk an extra second to realize. When Sang-hyuk needed Hong-bin to stand up, Hong-bin would do so without being asked, shifting accordingly with the way Sang-hyuk moved.  
  
There was no base, but it was a beginning that Sang-hyuk surprisingly had very little anxiety about adjusting toward.  
  
By the end of the daily tests, the uneasy pressure that had stifled the room days previous were all but gone, a relaxed easiness resting between the two as Sang-hyuk sat back in his chair. Hong-bin was watching him all the while, his lips still upturned with his back and shoulders straight. It was exactly like the Hong-bin from Sang-hyuk’s memories, and for once Sang-hyuk decided to embrace the image instead of running from it.  
  
“Hong-bin…do you remember…?”  
  
 “Yes.”  
  
Sang-hyuk felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. “How much?” He imagined himself cushioned against Hong-bin’s lap, those thick, sturdy arms wrapped securely to keep him safe against the world. As Hong-bin stayed silent, Sang-hyuk’s skin prickled at the memory of Hong-bin’s fingers running against his arms, his voice soft as silk as he described what it was like to live without touch. Tucked away in the secret room Sang-hyuk was never supposed to enter, there were memories that he coveted with his life, and his heart raced at the thought that the one other person in those memories could remember too.  
  
“Enough.”  
  
Sang-hyuk let out a rough cough he didn’t realize he had been holding, waiting until his fingers could flex smoothly before speaking. “Okay, that’s okay. When did you start remembering?”  
  
Hong-bin didn’t answer right away, a reaction Sang-hyuk worried about until he said, “Since I wanted to tell you.”  
  
“That…ah, okay. That’s fine. Thank you for telling me.” He took the following awkward silence to grab his folder and subconsciously poke at it with his pen, thinking. Hong-bin remembered, what exactly he wasn’t sure, but the fact was he remembered. If he wanted to keep both himself and Hak-yeon safe, he should go straight to Joon-myeon and report to him, letting him know the memory wipe hadn’t worked. He should be stepping back and relinquishing any connection to Hong-bin as the latter was taken away to be fully experimented on. He _should…_ but…he wouldn’t.  
  
He put down the folder to see Hong-bin staring, and he cleared his throat. “I-”  
  
“Would you tell the story now?”  
  
It took Sang-hyuk a second to understand, and a real, genuine smile flashed on his face when he did. “Sure,” he said, going over to the bookshelf and flipping through the few books he’d managed to sneak in. When it came to Hong-bin, Sang-hyuk was allowed to do almost anything, though Joon-myeon and the other higher-ups weren’t very keen on him bringing in outside objects to use. “Which story would you like to hear? I haven’t read anything in a while; how about The Little Mermaid, or Sleeping Beauty? Ah, you probably want to hear a happy one-”  
  
“I do not want to hear those.”  
  
“Then which one?” Sang-hyuk flipped haphazardly through the books, clicking his tongue. “I don’t have too many-”  
  
“The favorite.” Sang-hyuk froze, the books he had been holding slipping through his fingers and crumpling against the bookshelf. He chanced a glance at Hong-bin, knowing the other was already aware there was no book for that. Carefully, slowly, he slipped back into his seat, smiling sweetly as he nodded.  
  
“Oh, that one; sure! The one with the little boy, right? In the woods?”  
  
“Yes.” Hong-bin’s answer was rushed, if he could even call it rushed, and Sang-hyuk laughed, his hand out and buried in Hong-bin’s hair before he knew it. It was a surprise for both of them, Hong-bin’s eyes locked on Sang-hyuk’s hand, but it was something that felt just as familiar as all those years ago, his hands smoothly sliding down to take Hong-bin’s own. It had been a long time since Sang-hyuk had willingly held Hong-bin’s hands like this, the slickness from the fake skin sticking to his own, but it felt right all the same.  
  
“Well,” he started gently, “there was once a little boy that lived in the woods. He was a small, scared little boy, and the woods were very big and very thick, so the sun rarely could make it to his little house. He spent all his time there, and he was very lonely.” He began to rub circles into the back of Hong-bin’s hands, knowing he now had the other’s full attention as the words flowing through his lips painted a story in dull colors and empty images.  
  
“But the little boy had one friend that kept him company so he wasn’t alone. The little boy loved his friend a lot. But the friend couldn’t come very often, so he was still lonely. He always dreamed of going outside and exploring the world, but he was too scared to leave.”  
  
Hong-bin’s eyes were wide, unblinking, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t meet them, cowardly staring down at their hands. His voice caught as he continued, a slight waver that had Hong-bin’s hands stiffening.  
  
“But the little boy’s father had been doing a lot of bad things, and the king was so angry he sent his soldiers to go and kill his family. They killed the father and mother, but they didn’t know the little boy was there. When they found the little boy, they were going to kill him too, but when they saw how small and scared he was, they decided to let him live. They took him and kept him prisoner, and he was put in the dungeons under the castle.”  
  
“What about the friend?”  
  
Sang-hyuk stopped, his eyes wet as he looked up to see Hong-bin inches from himself, his hands now held between Hong-bin’s strong ones. He tried to believe that this was Hong-bin’s way of comforting him, noticing all the subtle nuances of how Hong-bin copied the way Sang-hyuk would comfort him. He closed his eyes, lowering his head as he whispered, “The friend was kidnapped too. They kept the friend in a different cell from the little boy.”  
  
“Why?” If what he was said was true, Hong-bin would remember this part of the story, asking was only confirming.  
  
“To hurt the little boy. The little boy would be able to see his friend and talk to him, but he couldn’t do anything to help. If the little boy was bad, they would hurt his friend, and if the friend was bad, they would hurt the little boy. It was a cruel punishment, but the king was very angry.”  
  
Hong-bin hummed, the sound so familiar it hurt. “How does the story end?”  
  
Sang-hyuk had never told the end of the story, always finding some excuse or another to stop before finishing. He let out a shaky sigh as he pulled away, fighting away tears to smile placatingly. “The little boy died. He never did anything to protect his friend, so they eventually died together. It’s a sad story.” Hong-bin didn’t react to that, his gaze seeming to harden, and Sang-hyuk knew the other didn’t believe him. It was strange to think a cyborg that only a week earlier couldn’t comprehend a smile could now openly convey his disbelief.  
  
“Sorry, I knew it was a sad ending, so I didn’t tell you before.”  
  
“The little boy; before he died, what emotion did he feel?”  
  
“What?” Sang-hyuk asked, taken aback, and Hong-bin straightened his shoulders.  
  
“When he died, what emotion did he feel? Did he cry?”  
  
Crying…that held much more than simple sadness; and just that question told Sang-hyuk more about how much of Hong-bin had returned than any test could prove.  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded, placing his hands over Hong-bin’s knees, the fabric of his pants coarse. “Yes, he did. He cried for days before he died.” It was said so matter-of-factly, so stiffly, that Sang-hyuk was surprised when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, turning his head slightly to see Hong-bin rest his chin on Sang-hyuk’s shoulder. “Hong-bin…” Hong-bin’s eyes flitted down to his hand that began to pat Sang-hyuk’s back, and with each pat the dam broke, tears he had been holding back gushing out of him with the force of a storm.  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he cried this hard, this freely, but it was a relief he relished in.  
  
When he finally pulled away, Hong-bin was watching him in that mimicked expression of concern, his face pinched and his body hovering closely. Sang-hyuk let out a bitter chuckle at the sight, ruffling Hong-bin’s hair to let him know he was okay. It didn’t work, but that just made Sang-hyuk laugh more.  
  
“I’m okay, thank you, Hong-bin.”  
  
“You cried. You are sad.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Hong-bin straightened himself again, his expression drawn as if thinking. Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure if whatever he remembered allowed him the ability to think, but he decided that for today, he would pretend to believe. “Did the story make you sad?”  
  
“…yes.”  
  
“Your life makes you sad.” Sang-hyuk flinched at the implied acknowledgment that Hong-bin had known, and he nodded when Hong-bin waited for an answer. “Much has happened since you were brought here. You have lost your light.”  
  
Sang-hyuk nodded again, unable to speak.  
  
“You are taller. You speak more now. You have changed.”  
  
Sang-hyuk chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “You pretty much have to change to survive here. And growing tall is what happens when you get older. Can’t really do anything about that.” Hong-bin only tilted his head, and this time it made him smile, the pain it used to give him all but gone. He reached over, pinching Hong-bin’s cheeks and laughing when Hong-bin glared. “You’re just going to have to get used to me being taller, and talking more. I’m the boss now.”  
  
“You are still a child,” Hong-bin mumbled through squished lips, Sang-hyuk pulling away when the other’s glare hardened.  
  
“That may be, but I’m in charge. They didn’t put me in charge of you for nothing.” He missed the way Hong-bin’s expression softened at that, too busy gloating and allowing himself to be happy for once.  
  
  
At some point, Sang-hyuk had crawled up onto the bed with Hong-bin, the two of them sitting across from each other with their knees tucked under their chins and toes brushing together. Sang-hyuk knew there would be millions of questions the moment the footage of today got out, but like Hak-yeon told him, he was going to enjoy this time as much as possible. They were going to more than likely wipe Hong-bin all over again once they found out, so time was precious.  
  
Hong-bin’s eyes were sharp as they watched every movement Sang-hyuk made, copying him, and Sang-hyuk let out a soft laugh. “It’s so weird…seeing you like this. You’re just like before.”  
  
Hong-bin hummed, the sound robotic. “Yes, it is different to have the autonomy to speak to you as I once did. It is also different to see a you that understands what I am and what is happening.” Sang-hyuk didn’t respond, knowing just how true that was. He was very different from the boy that innocently walked into his father’s office because he thought the man inside was _lonely_ , that innocence lost years ago and replaced with a wretchedness that only continued to grow and choke him from the inside. While he tried to pretend in front of Hak-yeon, he knew the change was obvious, everyone able to see it—even himself.  
  
It was something he tried not to think about.  
  
“Yes, well…that understanding makes it difficult to stay the same.”  
  
Hong-bin levelled him with a heavy stare that did nothing to make Sang-hyuk feel better, his hum lowering to a deep whir. “You are still as expressive as before, it is not hard to read your expressions. Only now your range of emotions has diminished to a very small set. You are always sad.”  
  
The smile Sang-hyuk forced nearly ripped him in half, his heart shattering for the thousandth time. “No, I still smile, see? Remember what I told you? Smiling means you’re happy. I’m happy, see?” He slapped Hong-bin’s leg playfully, hoping to distract him, though he should have known that never would have worked.  
  
“I may struggle understanding emotions and how to respond accordingly, but I know you. You have the ability to smile when you are sad.”  
  
Sang-hyuk’s smile slipped away as he rested his chin on his knees, sighing. “I’ve had that ability for a long time. It’s very easy to do.”  
  
“Why do you not cry if you are sad? Do you wish to hide?”  
  
“Showing how I really feel in this kind of place is only a weakness. They would tear me apart if they knew. In order to stay with you, I have to be strong. So, I smile.” He glanced up to see Hong-bin staring at him, his eyes flashing, and he winced. “Make sure to erase that from your memory. It’s secret, I don’t want anyone else to find out.” The joke came so easily, so naturally, and it pained him that much more.  
  
He was trained perfectly.  
  
“Do you ever wish to return to the time before?”  
  
Sang-hyuk let out a withered chuckle, shaking his head. “No. Going back would only hurt more. I have always been sad, Hong-bin, so adding any more would just be another drop in the ocean.”  
  
  
Sung-jae was waiting for him the moment he stepped out of Hong-bin’s room, sheer willpower the only thing keeping him from tackling him right then and there. Sang-hyuk slowly closed the door as he stared at the other strangely, wondering what he could be doing up here. Sung-jae rarely came up to the second floor. When it was obvious Sung-jae wasn’t going to speak first, he finally asked, shifting Hong-bin’s report in his arms, “Sung-jae? What are you doing here?”  
  
Sung-jae took that as an opening, running over and tugging on his arm excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s go out for a drink! Il-hoon told me about this great club down the street that opened up; I’ll treat you!”  
  
Sang-hyuk spluttered for a few seconds before quickly pushing the other off him, taken aback at the sudden invitation. Sung-jae was always a tad bit spontaneous and the first to try the craziest things, but this was a little out there, even for him. “What? Do you even know how to drink, you lightweight?”  
  
Sung-jae gasped dramatically, shaking Sang-hyuk until they were both laughing. “How dare you! I’ve drank before! I can drink a whole lot more than you!”  
  
Sang-hyuk hummed doubtfully, snickering when Sung-jae continued to follow him with one hand wrapped around Sang-hyuk’s elbow. “Okay, oh great one, then why are we going out to drink? So you can watch your poor subject get drunk?”  
  
That boasted Sung-jae enough he finally let go, instead trailing behind as he waited for Sang-hyuk to finish filing away Hong-bin’s report. “Well, I had my first person pass Test 2!” Sang-hyuk froze, turning to look at him in shock. “She’s getting sent to the testing room tomorrow, so I want to celebrate!” Sang-hyuk knew there was more to this than just happy celebrating, but Sung-jae was always good at distracting everyone with bright smiles and jokes. So, with a small smile, he agreed.  
  
The club wasn’t far from the lab, just a short walk that reminded them of the coming winter, both shivering in their thin jackets as glistening snowflakes littered their hair. He would have to remind Hak-yeon to dress warmer the next time he decided to go out.  
  
People were everywhere when they stepped inside, hot bodies full of rushing adrenaline and poor choices pressed against each other as their loud voices filtered through the air. Sang-hyuk was reminded of just how many people there really were in the world, feeling as if everyone was watching as he and Sung-jae pushed their way to the counter. He was fully content letting Sung-jae order for him, hunching in on himself as he glanced around, eyes flickering over all the faces and taking everything in.  
  
Ignorance. He watched as all these people talked and laughed with one another, hands slapping playfully and fingers reaching in places that had cheeks blushing red. They were all so blissfully unaware of what was going on just down the street, having no clue about the deaths dealt out by the people they believed protected them. No, these people, their only worry was to get through the day, to earn enough money to have nights out like this, where they could be free without regrets. He could see them all, the shy, the bold, the brave, the brash; for just this night, they all knew each other and were unafraid to speak.  
  
Envy. Sang-hyuk wanted their freedom, their happiness. He wished he could be as bold as them, as unafraid to let everything out.  
  
“Here, Sang-hyuk,” Sung-jae called out next to him, prying open Sang-hyuk’s hand to place the shot glass in it. Neither said anything as they both downed the shot, leaning against the counter and staring at all the people. He could hear Sung-jae sigh, his expression drawn. “Thanks for coming with me, really.”  
  
Sang-hyuk pursed his lips, knowing how much Sung-jae really meant it. “No problem.”  
  
Sung-jae called the bartender and got their glasses refilled, though neither of them took a sip. Sang-hyuk glanced over at his friend to see him staring into the glass, watching the ripples in the alcohol as people walked by. Sang-hyuk ran over all the comforting things he could say in his head, none of them sounding like what he wanted. Sung-jae took care of that, speaking quietly, “It was that girl.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Sung-jae didn’t look up, his fingers tightening around the glass. “The girl you saw the other day. The one that’s only nineteen.”  
  
Sang-hyuk looked down at his own drink when he realized what Sung-jae was talking about. He remembered that girl, so young as she slept the days away under the heavy influence of the drugs. It was always a surprise when a subject lived through the test, no body type having any advantage over another. It was surprisingly easy imagining what that girl must have felt when she woke up, finding her body changed and her mind purposefully muddled. He shoved that image away as he gave a small grunt. “She’s strong.”  
  
“You know…I’m always scared. I’m scared to see the volunteers walk in my room, to see their faces when they’re sleeping through Test 1. I’m afraid if I see them too much, they’ll follow me forever. I kill them, you know? I’m the one that gives the test, and I’m the one that takes their life away.” Sang-hyuk stayed silent as he let Sung-jae speak, knowing there was no one else he could tell this too. It was hard to find someone to speak freely with, everyone a spy against everyone, and it was always a risk that someone would hear and tell. Sung-jae—they trusted each other, and that trust was sacred.  
  
“You know about Doctor Kim, the one that trained me?” Sang-hyuk nodded, and Sung-jae downed the shot, immediately calling for another. His voice was bitter. “All it took was a bad IV set. He didn’t know, gave them out to the subjects and they all died. Yifan was furious—do you know how they got rid of Kim?”  
  
“I…they killed him, didn’t they?” It was what they always did. Having the threat of death made the scientists work harder.  
  
Sung-jae scoffed, downing another shot and getting another. Sang-hyuk wanted to stop him but felt he shouldn’t, feeling the other should let this all out now. It was hard to be sunny where they worked, and no matter how much of it was natural, there was bound to be a breaking point. “I killed him. They made me give him Test 1, so that I would be the next head of testing. Did you know that?”  
  
Sang-hyuk was genuinely shocked, unable to give an answer. Sung-jae was always so happy, always laughing and joking. How could he…? “I…I didn’t.”  
  
“Doctor Kim cried and begged until he died, pleading for me not to do it. I didn’t want to, but…I have my mom at home. I have to take care of her. So I did it, and they immediately promoted me. Yifan even came over to congratulate me.” The bartender hesitated giving Sung-jae another drink, giving him and Sang-hyuk a concerned look, but one easy reassurance got him to reluctantly pour another. Sung-jae immediately drank it.  
  
“It was so easy to be promoted, so easy to get killed. I…I’m scared every day, Sang-hyuk. I’m scared that one day I’ll make a stupid mistake and they’ll kill me off, just like that. Kill me and replace me like it was nothing. They don’t care about me, about any of us. We’re just tools, pawns that are worthless once they’ve fulfilled their use. I…it hurts to think about it.”  
  
Sang-hyuk pursed his lips, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he tried to stay calm. There were many times he thought the same thing, felt the same uselessness as he bowed before the leaders, knowing there was nothing someone as low as him could do. It was a hard revelation to deal with, to realize that your life was nothing in the grand scheme of things, especially with the things they were forced to do and see. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Sung-jae, having to be front and center for it all.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sung-jae. I really am.” Sung-jae gave him a languid smile in return, the alcohol finally kicking in and clouding his eyes in a dusty haze. He felt his friend’s head lean on his shoulder, tears flooding his eyes as incoherent words mumbled from his lips, so sleepy. Sang-hyuk sighed as he grabbed a barstool and helped him sit down, adjusting his head so Sung-jae was comfortably resting on his shoulder.  
Such a lightweight.  
  
“Are you going to want me to call a cab for him?” Sang-hyuk nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice, whipping his head around to see the bartender leaning over the counter concernedly, his eyes on Sung-jae. Sang-hyuk’s hand around his still full glass shook, his other hand in his pocket tight.  
  
“N-no. He’ll be fine.”  
  
“He doesn’t look so good…he drank a lot.” The man reached a hand out to check Sung-jae’s temperature, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly tugged his friend away. The bartender seemed surprised at his reaction, awkwardly pulling back. “I don’t mean to bother you, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”  
  
“He’s fine.” Sang-hyuk wished now they invited someone else to come with them, if only so he wouldn’t be the one stuck with getting a drunk Sung-jae home. He finished his glass and slid it over to the bartender, grunting and doing his best to get Sung-jae to stand up. He groaned when Sung-jae only clung onto his neck, mumbling nonsense.  
  
The bartender chuckled at the two of them, ignoring Sang-hyuk’s livid glare as he walked around the counter. “What are you doing?” he snapped when the man easily hefted Sung-jae onto his side, Sang-hyuk’s hands uselessly falling to his side.  
  
“You don’t look like you’ve done this before,” the man joked, grinning impishly when Sang-hyuk glared at him. “You gonna drink till you’re like this too? Don’t worry, I have lots of practice dealing with drunks.” Sang-hyuk pretended he didn’t see the blatant wink the other gave him.  
  
“No. I have to get him home.”  
  
“No problem! I can help you call a cab, and maybe in the meantime get your number. Wouldn’t mind your name either.”  
  
Sang-hyuk honestly had no idea what to do with the brazen flirting the man was doing with him, unsure if he was playing or if that really was just his way of flirting. He hoped it was the former. He knew what to do if it was the former.  
  
He diligently followed behind the bartender as he expertly weaved his way through all the people, Sung-jae tucked snugly to his side. He stayed back until the bartender was out the door, waving down a cab with the ease of a regular, and Sang-hyuk was pulling him back. “You don’t need to do that. We live just down the street. I can walk him back.”  
  
The man shifted Sung-jae so the other’s head could loll back, smirking when Sang-hyuk grimaced. “Yeah, but it would be a hell of a walk back. A taxi would only cost a couple bucks, and a lot less work for you.” He managed to free an arm to grab a taxi, chuckling when Sang-hyuk whined at him to stop. Sang-hyuk really hated people, and this man was beginning to be the epitome of what he wanted to stab with a thousand hot needles. He would enjoy that.  
  
Sang-hyuk begrudgingly stepped up to give the taxi driver their address when Sung-jae was pushed into the backseat. He felt something hold him back when he went to get in, looking back to see the bartender grinning. “Aren’t you gonna give me a tip?” He held out a hand expectantly, and Sang-hyuk wracked his brain for what he was supposed to give. Confused, he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, and the man clicked his tongue.  
  
“Not that kinda tip, silly. Can I have your number?” Sang-hyuk was getting really tired of his silly jokes, scowling at his stupid smiles.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then how ‘bout a name?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Aww, come on. I carried your friend and even got you a taxi! Can’t I at least get a name? Mine’s Lee Jae-hwan.” Giggles slipped through Jae-hwan’s mouth as he spoke, so happy and carefree that Sang-hyuk couldn’t deny him even if wanted to. He sighed exasperatedly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the ground.  
  
“Han Sang-hyuk.”  
  
Jae-hwan let out a squeal, and Sang-hyuk looked up to see the brightest smile on his face, as if his whole day was made just from Sang-hyuk’s name alone. It was so strange, to see something Sang-hyuk did on his own volition have such a positive effect. He could feel his cheeks burn at the sight, Jae-hwan’s exuberant thanks and parting pat on the shoulder falling on muffled ears as he silently got in the taxi, his mind blank as that happy smile took over the rest of his thoughts.  
  
He really did want to stab him with a thousand hot needles.  
  
He would enjoy that.


	9. Misinterpretation

Sang-hyuk surprisingly felt a lot less conflicted the next morning when he went into his father’s office the moment he saw the older man wasn’t home, a spark of excitement running through him when he clumsily yanked out Hong-bin’s charger. He did worry that Hong-bin would be angry for waking him, or that his father would suddenly be at the door and see him, but he pushed that all away when Hong-bin blinked up at him, a shaky smile lifting the edge of his lips. He turned off the machine and pushed it all to the side as Hong-bin cleaned himself up, his shirt down and his chest hidden away by the time Sang-hyuk looked up again.

“Hello, Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin greeted quietly, his body much smoother as he allowed Sang-hyuk to guide him to the floor. Sang-hyuk made sure to sit them down just a bit closer, the hem of Hong-bin’s pants brushing his toes.

“Hi, Hong-bin,” Sang-hyuk greeted back, giggling when Hong-bin struggled crossing his legs, his knees cracking as he did so. A lot of Hong-bin’s body creaked and cracked whenever he tried to move, and Sang-hyuk wondered silently if that was why he had to plug into the machine at night. It would make sense, but Sang-hyuk wondered what could’ve happened that would have caused it. “How are you?”

Hong-bin paused, eyes scrunching just slightly that it made Sang-hyuk pull back embarrassedly. Did he ask something wrong? He really didn’t know anything about Hong-bin; maybe he didn’t like him asking questions. He seemed to have been alright with all the smiling and playing they did yesterday, but maybe he wasn’t in a good mood now. Clearing his throat, he stuttered awkwardly, “S-sorry.”

Hong-bin tilted his head, blinking. “What are you sorry for?”

Sang-hyuk sucked on his bottom lip, his mind whirling so much he didn’t notice Hong-bin copying him.  “I don’t know…I guess, because I made you angry or something.”

“I am not angry.”

“You aren’t?” Sang-hyuk looked up to see Hong-bin staring at him, surprised at the calm expression on his face. “I just thought, since you didn’t answer, you were upset.”

Hong-bin didn’t answer right away, staring at the floor as if in thought, before saying slowly, his voice unsure, “I did not know how to answer your question.”

“Question?” It took Sang-hyuk a moment to figure out what he was talking about, his face heating up in embarrassment. “Ah, that—I’m sorry if I confused you. It wasn’t meant to be a hard question. It’s a kind of greeting…hasn’t anyone asked you that before?”

“No.” Hong-bin mulled over the new information for a while before asking again, his eyes flashing, “What would be the correct response?”

Sang-hyuk thought it over, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess it’s however you’re feeling. If you’re feeling super happy, you’d probably say you feel great. Or if you’re really sad, you’d say you don’t feel good. It depends on what you’re feeling, I guess.” Hong-bin nodded as if believing every word he said, and it made Sang-hyuk’s cheeks burn. Never before had he had met someone who knew less than him, who looked to _him_ for guidance. There was so little he knew, so little he’d seen—but here Hong-bin was, looking at him for answers. It was an incredibly enthralling experience.

“What would be the standard response?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, frowning, Hong-bin’s voice softened. “If I do not know what I am feeling, how would I answer?”

“Well, you could probably say ‘I’m fine’. It doesn’t really say anything about how you really are, but nobody will think anything of it.” He saw Hong-bin nodding, mouthing the words silently as if testing their sound, and he snickered. “So, if someone asked you, ‘Hey Hong-bin, how are you?’, how would you answer?”

It took Hong-bin a second to answer, his answer rushed. “I am fine.”

“Perfect! And do you know what you’re supposed to say after?” Hong-bin froze, staring at him as if betrayed, and Sang-hyuk laughed good-naturedly. “You would ask how they are back! If someone asks how you are, it’s always polite to ask how they are back. You have to be polite. So, if you say you’re fine, what would say after?”

“How are you?”

“Yes! Good job!” Sang-hyuk patted Hong-bin’s arm excitedly, grinning when Hong-bin blinked in open-wide surprise. “So next time someone greets you, you can say that. But you better greet them back!” Hong-bin’s eyes were wide as he tentatively nodded, not sure how to respond, and Sang-hyuk laughed. He found the easiest way to talk to Hong-bin was through jokes and playing, both catching him off-guard. He watched Hong-bin mutter quietly to himself, and he couldn’t help smiling.

Hong-bin really wasn’t that scary when allowed to think of something besides his body. Sang-hyuk wished Hong-bin could see that.

“Hey…Hong-bin.” Hong-bin immediately straightened, his shoulders pulled back and his hands on his knees in the most proper position Sang-hyuk had ever seen. He remembered how his father used to smack his hands with a ruler to get him to sit straight when he was younger, having given up years ago when Sang-hyuk seemed completely unable. He wondered if Hong-bin’s parents had done the same to him, and could only imagine what it must have been like where it seemed to be ingrained into Hong-bin’s entire being. “Before my father brought you here…did you ever have any friends?”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed, something Sang-hyuk learned to mean he was thinking. He probably didn’t even know he did it. “I had my master.”

Sang-hyuk shivered again at the mention of the word ‘master’. “Your… _master,_ were you close with him?”

“No.”

“But didn’t you say he tried to help you learn emotions and stuff? Why would he do that if you weren’t close?”

“Everything he did was to further his research. My inability to learn and dependence on his programming was more data he could use.” Sang-hyuk swallowed as he let his eyes sweep over Hong-bin, for the first time seeing more than a stiff posture and emotionless face. If what Hong-bin was saying was true, Hong-bin…he might not have started out like this. He might have been like Sang-hyuk—lonely and bored, but still full of emotion and youthful innocence. The shadowed silhouette of what Sang-hyuk had imagined Hong-bin’s home to be slowly darkened with each picture Hong-bin painted, hidden in a dark basement with machines lining every wall and Hong-bin alone in the mist of it. He could only imagine what Hong-bin’s ‘master’ had done to turn Hong-bin into what he was now, and he shivered at the thought that his father had known this man.

“Then…did your _master_ ever let you have friends or anything?”

“No.”

“…were you alone?”

“Yes.”

A little boy hidden alone in the darkness, another hidden away in the confines of a sunlit chamber. Both kept away from the world, one subjected to a life where his entire existence revolved around experimentation, the other to wither away until the day he died.

Sang-hyuk’s heart felt as if it was crushed into a million pieces as the full extent of what Hong-bin truly was, truly had been, finally came to light. While Sang-hyuk himself was never made to endure what Hong-bin had, and hopefully never would, it hurt to be able to fully understand his pain.

As Hong-bin merely blinked curiously, Sang-hyuk silently got to his feet, his lips a thin line as he fought to keep them from trembling. With tentative fingers, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Hong-bin’s broad shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug.

Hong-bin’s instinctive reaction was a jolted flinch, a small gasp escaping his lips, but Sang-hyuk held tight, burying his face into Hong-bin’s shoulder. He really had no idea how to hug properly, his parents always avoiding his touch unless to scold him. Hak-yeon was the only one that ever genuinely hugged him, and it was something Sang-hyuk craved for with every fiber of his being. There was something so comforting, so tender, that a hug could give, a wordless gesture to ensure that they understood and would always be there. There would never be enough words to describe how sorry Sang-hyuk was for what Hong-bin had been through, but with a hug, he hoped he could convey even a portion of that.

“What are you doing?” Hong-bin asked, his breath tickling Sang-hyuk’s ear.

Sang-hyuk felt awkward leaning over to hug him, going down on his knees to bring Hong-bin in closer. “I’m hugging you.”

“Why?”

“Hong-bin…when someone hugs you, it means they’re there for you. I want to let you know…I understand.” He could almost feel the confusion emanating off the other, and Sang-hyuk tightened his hold. Standing here and listening to Hong-bin not knowing what a hug was, it only made Sang-hyuk that much more thankful for how much Hak-yeon had given him.

Hong-bin’s voice was soft, confused. “How do I hug back?”

Sang-hyuk let out a small scoff, a bitter smile on his lips. “Just wrap your arms around me.” Hong-bin did as told, his grip a bit hard, and Sang-hyuk gave him an encouraging nod. “This is the best way to let someone know how you feel. If you see someone happy, you can hug them to congratulate them. If you see someone crying, you can hug them to make them feel better. Hugging can do a lot, so make sure you hug as much as you can.”

“I do not understand.” Hong-bin buried his face into Sang-hyuk shoulder, his lips brushing over his collarbone. “How can a simple physical gesture create such reactions?”

“Because we’re human.” Hong-bin’s fingers dug into his back, a fierce pain muted by the adrenaline rushing through his body. “I can’t describe it any better than that, I don’t know much myself. My friend, my Hak-yeon, he always hugs me to make me feel better. I’m nothing like him, but if you need it, I can be that person for you.”

Hong-bin didn’t respond, and yet Sang-hyuk refused to let go, Hong-bin’s hands just as strong. He wasn’t sure Hong-bin really, fully understood what they were doing, but it seemed to be enough.

It was a long time before either spoke again, the air growing warmer as the day sprawled out before them, the sun shining brightly through the window. Hong-bin was so warm despite how cold his skin was to the touch, and Sang-hyuk found it to be strangely familiar. “Hong-bin-”

“I understand.” Sang-hyuk flinched at the sudden voice, pulling back enough to see Hong-bin gazing straight into his eyes, his hands still resting at Sang-hyuk’s waist. He wanted to ask what he meant, but found the words stuck in his throat. Now so close, only inches from each other, he could clearly see how much more there was behind the emotionless front Hong-bin always held. The passion that Sang-hyuk had seen that day, it was there, a smoldering blaze that he wasn’t sure Hong-bin even knew was there.

Sang-hyuk wished he could help him, do more than just give little hugs and hold conversations.

But there was nothing.

“I understand,” Hong-bin repeated, his hands deft as he twisted Sang-hyuk around and pulled him into his lap, ignoring Sang-hyuk’s embarrassing yelp as he shifted him around until he was settled comfortably. Sang-hyuk’s cheeks were bright red as he felt Hong-bin’s firm chest against his back, his arms sturdy as they wrapped around him. He snuck a glance up to see Hong-bin staring down at him, and he hurriedly looked away.

“Hong-bin…”

“Your friend; you called him Hak-yeon?”

Sang-hyuk stiffened at the sound of Hak-yeon’s name, his heart racing for an entirely different reason. “Y-yeah, a long time ago.” No matter how nice Hong-bin was, he still worked with his father. He would never put Hak-yeon in danger. No matter how nice he was. “I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“What was he like?”

Sang-hyuk hesitated, his voice bittersweet. “He was…wonderful. Amazing. He always protected me and cared for me, like a big brother. When I was scared or lonely, I could always rely on him to make me feel better. He taught me things my parents wouldn’t, and made sure to tell me I was loved. I…I love him a lot. I can’t imagine a world without him.” There was so much more he wanted to say about Hak-yeon, his heart swelling, but found the words unable to come out. Nothing could fully describe how much Sang-hyuk loved Hak-yeon—he wished he could tell Hong-bin, make Hong-bin realize, but once again his brain failed him.

“Why do you not talk to him now?”

Sang-hyuk’s voice fell even more, barely above a whisper. “My father hates him. He doesn’t want anyone to come here, but Hak-yeon used to sneak over a lot to visit me. My father found out and…he hurt Hak-yeon. After that…I’m too scared to call him.”

“Scared…like you are scared of your father.”

Sang-hyuk nodded. “Yeah…. I want to see him so much but…I don’t want Hak-yeon to get hurt again.” Hong-bin hummed, a low hum that radiated through Sang-hyuk’s body, and he lowered his head in shame. He knew he should be able to stand up to his father, demand that Hak-yeon be able to visit whenever he wanted. He knew he should have been able to stand up to his father even back then, when his father hurt Hak-yeon and left Sang-hyuk with the horrifying possibility that Hak-yeon would never come back again.

“Your friend sounds good. Hak-yeon—you should cherish him.” A gentle smile grew on Sang-hyuk’s lips, leaning his head into the crook of Hong-bin’s elbow.

“I will. But you can’t tell my father. Hak-yeon—he doesn’t know about him. You won’t tell, right?”

“If that is what you want.” Sang-hyuk closed his eyes as he felt himself melt into Hong-bin’s arms, for the first time letting himself forget all his worries with someone other than Hak-yeon. There was something about Hong-bin that calmed him, a camaraderie that couldn’t be forged even after years together. His mind wearily shouted that he shouldn’t be so relaxed in his father’s office, but he easily ignored it, smiling freely as he fell asleep under the warm sun and the feel of Hong-bin’s chin brushing the roots of his hair.

He wasn’t asleep long though, a sharp pain shooting through his legs, and Hong-bin’s arms braced against him when he jerked in shock. His mind was still muddled from sleep as he hurriedly looked around the room, his heart hammering in his chest as he expected to see his father above him. But there was nothing of the sort, his mind clearing enough he could hear Hong-bin whispering in his ear. “I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you. I am sorry.”

“H-Hong-bin?” he asked, turning to see Hong-bin staring at him, his eyes narrowed as they ran over Sang-hyuk’s body. “What happened?”

“Your legs. I wanted to see if they were still injured. I did not mean to wake you.”

Sang-hyuk stared down at his legs, knowing the hidden bruises that covered his thighs and waist. They still burned just as badly as when Hong-bin first dug them into his skin, but he didn’t want to make Hong-bin feel bad. He tried to make his voice as light as possible, smiling to calm the other down. “It’s okay. They’re not that bad.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little, but it’s not that bad, promise.” He waited until Hong-bin finally quieted down, watching as Hong-bin’s hands hesitantly ran down his legs, his touch soft. Sang-hyuk could almost see the worry in the other’s eyes, Hong-bin’s other arm around Sang-hyuk’s waist hard. He bit his lip. “Hong-bin…the other day, did you really mean it? That you can’t touch?”

“I cannot.” Hong-bin’s fingers pushed down and Sang-hyuk hissed, his hand yanking back immediately.

“And you can’t taste?”

“I cannot.”

Sang-hyuk wriggled his way out of Hong-bin’s arms, turning to face him as he tried to understand. “You can’t touch, you can’t taste, you don’t understand emotions; what did your master _do_ to you?” Hong-bin didn’t answer, a response Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure was because he didn’t want to answer, or because he _couldn’t_ answer. “So, if you close your eyes,” he reached out and cupped his hand over Hong-bin’s eyes, “can you tell what I’m doing?”

He purposefully rubbed his hand up and down Hong-bin’s arms, poking his cheeks and pulling at his hair, trying to do every annoying thing he could think of. He tried tickling his neck, using his toes to brush the bottom of his feet, tapping his lips—and yet Hong-bin remained motionless the whole time. Confused, and a little disturbed, he slapped Hong-bin across the face, letting out a small gasp when Hong-bin’s face just moved along with his hand, not showing a bit of pain. He pulled his hand away, letting Hong-bin open his eyes as he asked hoarsely, “Did you feel any of that?”

“You hit me.”

Sang-hyuk twitched excitedly, grabbing Hong-bin’s arm. “You felt it, right? You felt it!”

“I heard you. It was not hard to figure out what you had done.”

Sang-hyuk’s shoulders slumped as he stared down at Hong-bin’s hand, the sliminess that had at one point disgusted him normal. If he really couldn’t feel, he couldn’t imagine what kind of isolated world Hong-bin lived in. His own loneliness seemed like nothing in comparison—unable to feel the heat of the sun, the sweet chill of snowing melting in his hands, the annoying throb of a stubbed toe, the gentle brush of another’s hand. Sang-hyuk tried to imagine what it would be like, all those times Hak-yeon was there to hug and kiss him and being completely unable to feel any of it.

It was so sad.

“Does it bother you?” Hong-bin asked, and Sang-hyuk looked up to see Hong-bin staring at him. Sang-hyuk swallowed, wondering if the reason he was always staring was because he wouldn’t have any idea what was going on around him if he didn’t.

“No, I just…I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

“Why would you imagine? You do not have this defect, it does not concern you.”

Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise at Hong-bin’s blunt tone, taking a second to recover. “I, ah, that’s true. But I still feel sorry.”

“Why?” Hong-bin looked genuinely confused, like he truly didn’t understand, and Sang-hyuk’s heart ached.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess it just makes me sad thinking about it. Feeling is so important, and not being able to feel anything…I guess it just makes me sad.”

Hong-bin tilted his head, his eyes shining. “So, my defect makes you sad?”

“…yes.”

Hong-bin was silent as he slipped his hand out from Sang-hyuk’s, his movements suddenly as fluid as water as he leaned forward and placed both hands on Sang-hyuk’s cheeks. Sang-hyuk’s whole body stood frozen as he felt Hong-bin’s fingers clumsily hook around his ears, his thumbs poking his eyes before rhythmically brushing the tips of his eyelashes. His touch was so gentle, his skin freezing, soothing, and Sang-hyuk felt the familiar well of tears begin to form.

Hong-bin smiled, his thumb brushing away the tears as he leaned in closer, Sang-hyuk able to feel the light rush of Hong-bin’s breath against his lips. “You are a bright child,” he said, his voice full of warmth and understanding, so different to his behavior before, “so please, do not waste your tears over me. You should smile.” When Sang-hyuk’s brows furrowed in confusion, Hong-bin’s hands shifted as his thumbs lifted the edge of Sang-hyuk’s lips. “Like what you taught me. Smile.”

“Hong-bin-”

“I am used to this, and cannot remember a time before. There is no use in crying over things that do not deserve tears.”

\--

Sang-hyuk bit back a horrified scream when he felt two large hands grab his shoulders, his eyes snapping open when he felt himself wrenched awake. His mind raced to catch up with his surroundings, muddled and gasping for air as he stared into the eyes of his father— _his father_. He started to panic at the realization that his father was in his bedroom right then, trying to understand what was going on—he remembered plugging Hong-bin back in, waiting until the sky was black before going to bed. It was still dark now, his father’s face highlighted by the dim light shining from the hallway.

His brain couldn’t think past his father leaning over him, hands gripping his shoulders, and he could only stutter out a tiny, “F-father?”

_“Sang-hyuk,”_ his father hissed dangerously, one hand seizing Sang-hyuk’s chin and forcing him to look him in the eye. Sang-hyuk was ready to cry at how scared he was, having no idea what he did to have upset him so badly. He must have come home after Sang-hyuk went to bed—did he know Sang-hyuk had gone into his office? Did he know he talked to Hong-bin? Sang-hyuk felt his body tremble as he started to cry, terrified of what his father was going to do.

_“Sang-hyuk, did you go into my office?”_  When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, too scared to even think of a response, his father shook Sang-hyuk’s head. _“Did you talk to it?”_

Sang-hyuk let out a shaky sob when his father’s nails pierced his skin, all the terrible possibilities of what was happening running through his mind. Did Hong-bin tell him about he and Sang-hyuk talking? Did his father know that Sang-hyuk had seen Hong-bin’s chest? Was he going to punish him? He hated lying, and he didn’t want to lie to his father, but with every second his father leered over him, growling as he waited for his answer, he couldn’t say the truth.

Not when that truth would also hurt Hong-bin.

“N-no, I didn’t!”

His father shook Sang-hyuk’s head again, his hand on Sang-hyuk’s shoulder shoving him down into bed. _“Don’t lie to me! Did you go in that room? Did it see you?”_

“Y-you said n-not to go in there! I-I stayed in h-here! I promise!”

His father didn’t say anything for a long while, his breathing heavy as his eyes ran over Sang-hyuk as if trying to find the lie. Sang-hyuk did nothing to hide it, his heart hammering against his chest as he nearly collapsed into a useless pile of tears right there, but it seemed to work, his father slowly releasing his grasp and falling to the floor. Sang-hyuk scrambled away as fast as he could, his back against the wall as he stared at his father’s silent figure, too afraid to say anything. His father was always the scariest when he was angry, and Sang-hyuk hadn’t seen him this furious since the time he discovered Hak-yeon in his room.

Finally, spoken so softly he almost missed it, his father asked, “You’re not lying, are you, Sang-hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk shivered, clutching the blankets to his chest. “N-no.”

His father refused to look up, staring down at his hands. The light from the hallway made his father’s skin a sickly white, his hallowed eyes and sunken cheeks making him appear almost like a ghost. It was a fitting image, one that haunted Sang-hyuk’s nightmares for years. “Sang-hyuk…I know I haven’t treated you well. I want to do better for you, but this is the best I can do.” Sang-hyuk’s body instinctively trembled at his voice, ignoring that the owner of that voice was someone he should unconditionally love.

Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure he could.

“But to protect you, you have to do what I say. Do you understand that?” His father looked up then, his eyes glowing against the light. Sang-hyuk tried to melt into the wall as he nodded, fresh tears trickling down his cheeks. “If I tell you not to do something, you cann _ot_ do it. If I say not to go into my office, I mean it. _Do you understand?”_

“Yes!” he cried, flinching when his father stood up. He brought the blanket up to his lips as his father stared down at him, silent as if searching for something. He wished he knew what was happening, what his father knew or what he was trying to get out of him—when his father wordlessly turned around, heading straight out the door and shutting it behind him.

He broke down into tears the moment he heard his father’s office door close, burying his face into his pillow as the sound of his father’s screams echoed in his ears, the image of his father hovering over him burning into his eyelids.

He didn’t sleep that night.

 


	10. Regain

Its eyes shot up when the door finally opened, its fingers twitching when it saw Sang-hyuk’s smiling face as he stepped into the room. He looked the same as he always did, his face young as smooth cheeks pulled up into happy bundles, hair splayed out messily over bright eyes and overly large clothes draped over his body as he closed the door behind him. Its eyes snapped down to the bag that rustled against Sang-hyuk’s side, the plastic handle briefly catching on the scar that ran down his forearm. It did not pay much attention to the bag, however, instead staring up into Sang-hyuk’s eyes and waiting for his greeting.

“Hello there, Y21,” Sang-hyuk greeted as he fell into his chair, his hands reaching over to take its own. It had been many days since Seok-jin had first appeared, and while it was now familiar with the man, it still preferred Sang-hyuk’s smiles compared to the way Seok-jin avoided it.

“Hello, Sang-hyuk,” it responded, having learned that as the proper response from watching Sang-hyuk and Seok-jin. Sang-hyuk’s smile widened to show his teeth, and the sudden urge to please him rushed through its body. When he placed his hand on its elbow, it immediately straightened its arm; when he ran his hands down to its waist, it immediately rotated its hips. Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened, though before it could wonder if its actions had caused such a response, Sang-hyuk ruffled its hair with a teary smile.

“You are very smart, you know that?” he asked, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Did you learn to do that all by yourself?” It was not sure how to respond, staring, and Sang-hyuk’s smile faltered, his eyes falling as he silently went back to checking the rest of its joints. It did not like the change in his expression, and it tried to make him smile again by continuing to help with the daily test. It worked, and by the end Sang-hyuk’s face was lighter.

“I have something for you,” Sang-hyuk said, turning slightly to grab the bag off the desk. Its eyes followed to see what he was doing, the crinkling noise reverberating loudly in its ears. Sang-hyuk noticed it watching, chuckling as he placed the bag on his lap, pushing the plastic away so it could see inside. It blinked confusedly. “These are for you.”

“For me?” it asked, looking up to see Sang-hyuk’s eyes wet and his smile trembling.

“Yes. The others aren’t too keen about it, but I feel that you deserve to have something cover you up. Don’t you think so?” It was not sure what that question meant, though it seemed Sang-hyuk had not been waiting for an answer, instead rummaging through the bag to pull out a shirt. He let out a satisfied smile as he unraveled it, shaking it a bit to catch its attention. “This one is perfect—it’s my favorite. I can’t wait to see you try it on.”

“Try it on?”

Sang-hyuk hesitated before giving a shaky laugh, never answering its question as he moved to put the shirt over its head. It stared at Sang-hyuk’s face while he guided its arms up into the air, confused. There were times when something inside its body stirred at the sight of Sang-hyuk, whenever his voice shook or his eyes glistened causing its fingers to tighten. It wanted to understand what pushed Sang-hyuk to smile and caused him to cry, though nothing in the man’s posture or voice gave anything away.

“There you go,” Sang-hyuk announced loudly once its head poked through the collar, the rest of the fabric rolling down its body and pooling around its waist. It looked down at itself, stared at its arms and how starkly they contrasted against the darkened color of the shirt. Sang-hyuk gently pulled its hands away, holding them in his lap as he leaned forward to look up into its eyes. “Do you like it?”

It blinked, not understanding what he was asking, and Sang-hyuk bit his lip. “Ah, sorry. I-”

“I like it.”

Sang-hyuk froze, his brow scrunching as his narrowed eyes ran over its body, an expression it had never seen before. It wondered if its answer had been wrong, only having Sang-hyuk and Seok-jin’s interactions as examples. While they never talked much, it had learned that there were many types of questions with different kinds of answers, making it hard for it to determine when to use the correct one. It could only guess what type of answer was needed for his question, though when Sang-hyuk continued to stare at it with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, it concluded that it was wrong. “I am sorry-”

“Do you…really like it, Y21?” Sang-hyuk asked, his voice cracking. Its eyes honed in on the tears running down Sang-hyuk’s cheeks, and it wondered if it had been the cause of them. Sang-hyuk cried so easily, it was not sure what it had done to cause it. “Do you really?”

“Was my answer wrong?”

“No, no,” Sang-hyuk said hurriedly, cupping its face in his hands, “you weren’t wrong. Your answer was perfect. You did wonderful.” It was confused by how quickly Sang-hyuk’s expressions were changing, moving so fluidly between crying and smiling that it did not know which was positive anymore. Its mind whirled as it tried to collect whatever it could, taking in Sang-hyuk’s gentle whisper, shining eyes and relaxed shoulders to signal his emotions, a bundle of positivity that it could understand. Even if there were very few chances for it to gather new information, it wanted to learn more to become better for Sang-hyuk.

It wanted Sang-hyuk to stop crying.

“You’re so smart,” Sang-hyuk said, pulling its head down slightly to rest his forehead against its own, and it blinked at seeing Sang-hyuk so close. Its eyes flit around to try and understand what he was doing, Sang-hyuk’s eyes closed and his breath slow, his hands still holding its face. It waited a few seconds before trying to mimic him, moving its arms up to place its hands on Sang-hyuk’s cheeks. It could see his eyes snap open, staring into its own, and it attempted to give him a smile. It was not able to tell if it did it correctly, unable to feel whether its lips moved the way it wanted, but it appeared good enough, Sang-hyuk laughing softly.

“You’re so smart,” Sang-hyuk repeated, smiling back. “You don’t deserve to be here. It’s all my fault…I’m so sorry.”

“I do not understand.”

Sang-hyuk immediately pulled back, quickly pushing its hands away as he straightened in his seat. It noticed the bag had fallen to the floor, clothes spilling out of it. “Sorry,” Sang-hyuk said, his voice light, “I got distracted. Here, let’s finish getting you all dressed up.”

It followed Sang-hyuk’s directions as he helped it to its feet, now much more adept as its knees immediately locked and its fingers clasped around Sang-hyuk’s hands. It had practiced standing up on its own since the day it fell, and while Sang-hyuk had tried to teach it to walk, it could not without the man by its side. Even now, with Sang-hyuk’s hand firmly grasping its own and helping it change, it knew that it would not be able on its own.

Sang-hyuk let out a loud sigh once they finally finished, his hands still holding its own as he swung them playfully. “Wow,” he breathed, running his eyes over its body and his teeth flashing, “You look amazing.”

“Amazing?” it asked, and Sang-hyuk laughed as he let one hand go to ruffle its hair.

“Yes. You’re absolutely amazing, and don’t let anyone else ever tell you otherwise.” It looked down at itself to try and find what part of itself was amazing, wondering if the clothing was supposed to enhance its features _,_ and Sang-hyuk’s finger lifted its chin up, forcing it to look him in the eye. “Hey, it’s okay. I was just giving you a compliment.”

“Compliment?”

“Yeah.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes were shining, his voice gentle, and it realized that it was making him feel positive. “I wanted to let you know how good you look, so I gave you a compliment. Here, ah,” Sang-hyuk suddenly turned his head to look around the room, his eyes fixing on the door, “I’ll show you. I’m going to walk you over to the other side of the room now, so be ready, okay?”

Its hand was already shifting to grab onto his by the time he finished his question, Sang-hyuk’s other hand moving to its back as he carefully guided it forward. It kept its eyes firmly on its own feet, having to put all its focus on the way its feet moved and pressed, even the smallest distraction able to cause it tumbling to the floor. Sang-hyuk was by its side all the while, muttering encouragements as its legs wobbled with each stunted step. It wanted to listen to Sang-hyuk’s voice, hear the sound of his compliments in its ear, but could not, so focused it never noticed the way Sang-hyuk’s hand glowed white from how tightly it held onto him. 

They walked all the way to the other end of the room, something it had never done before, the door it always thought unreachable now mere inches from its fingertips. Sang-hyuk made sure to step in between itself and the door, mumbling something soft into its ear to keep it from trying to leave. It did not pay attention to that, clinging to his side as it glanced back, taking in the sight of the bed it had spent its entire existence sitting on so far away.

It was strange, what had been its entire world now turned around completely, and its mouth hung open as it tried to understand. It lifted its arm out toward the bed, measuring the distance between the two, and a small, choked sound left its throat at the realization. Was this why Sang-hyuk had been trying to push it to walk around? Did he want it to experience this?

It blinked when a hand waved before its eyes, turning around to see Sang-hyuk grinning next to it. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, laughing when it could only stare at him. “You look so shocked.”

“I do not know.”

Sang-hyuk nodded, his expression gentle as he stepped behind it, his hands resting on its shoulders as he turned it around to face the wall, revealing a mirror. It recognized Sang-hyuk immediately, his posture and expression a perfect reflection. It watched the Sang-hyuk in the mirror lean forward, his lips resting by the ear of the person next to him, and it stared at the person in wonder. That person, that unmoving, empty person— “Do you see it?” Sang-hyuk asked, his one hand moving up to tuck a lock of hair behind the person’s ear, and it turned its head slightly to see the Sang-hyuk next to it doing the same thing. “Do you know what you’re looking at?”

“There is someone next to you,” it responded, watching the way Sang-hyuk’s eyes watered as he rested his cheek on the person’s head.

“Yes, there is,” Sang-hyuk whispered, its eyes watching how his hands ran up and down the person’s shoulders. “ _You’re_ next to me. The person in the mirror…that’s you.”

_You._

That was _it._

The person in the mirror…was _it._

It slowly reached its hand out, not noticing how horribly it shook, to see the person in the mirror do the same, taking a wobbling step forward to press its hand against the reflection. It stumbled as it did so, Sang-hyuk hurriedly catching it, but it did not pay attention, eyes focused on the way its hand lined up perfectly. The wrinkles in the skin were the same, each twitch the same, and it slowly looked up to stare at the reflection’s face.

The first thing it noticed were the wide eyes, a dark brown that appeared every bit as surprised as it felt. Leaving its hand on the mirror, it raised its other hand to run down the length of its nose, brushing the lips Sang-hyuk always talked about. It could not feel the touch, the reflection the only way it could see what it was doing, but that did not stop its wonder. It grabbed a lock of its hair, pulling it in front of its eyes so it could see, and its lips parted to let out a garbled shout.

“M-me-” it tried, and Sang-hyuk quickly wrapped his arms around its waist, it looking down to see exactly what it saw in the mirror.

“Yes, that’s you. Didn’t I say you look amazing? Look at you,” he leaned his head on its own again as his fingers brushed its eyes, “there’s your pretty eyes. And look at how cute your nose is. And those soft lips, it’s not fair how nice your lips are. They always make me so jealous.” It watched how intimately Sang-hyuk held it, how quiet his whispers were as he gave compliment after compliment, but all it could focus on was itself. It had never known what it looked like, and now faced with itself, it found it was nothing compared to Sang-hyuk.

Sang-hyuk was much more amazing than it could ever be.

“No matter what they do to you, you’ll always be wonderful…do you understand? You’ll always be handsome, smart, sweet…you’ll never be their puppet. I won’t let you.” Sang-hyuk’s hand trailed up to its chest, tears running down his face. “I’ll tell you how amazing you are as many times as you need. I’ll bring as many clothes as you want and dress you in the finest I can find. I promise. I’ll make sure they never change you.”

“Amazing…was I amazing before?”

“Yes, yes you were,” Sang-hyuk said, stepping closer so his front was flush against its back, his face buried into its neck. “You were more than amazing before. You were the most wonderful person in my life, and it will be over my dead body that they take you away.”

It used the mirror to successfully place its hands over Sang-hyuk’s, pulling his hand from its chest back down to its waist. It patted his hands as Sang-hyuk always did, and Sang-hyuk lifted his head in surprise.

“I do not want you to die.”

Sang-hyuk let out a choked sob as he shook his head, not even able to keep his smile up as he said strongly, “I won’t. I will never leave you alone, I promise.”

 

It waited until the lights turned on again before its eyes locked on the mirror by the door. All night, its mind could only think of its reflection, running over its features continuously. It wanted to see itself again, to see the being that could stand next to Sang-hyuk and try to determine what about itself was amazing. It was not that it did not trust Sang-hyuk, but found it could not understand.

It moved its feet off the bed, waiting for its knees to properly lock before experimentally standing up. It glanced around the room briefly before looking down, keeping its focus on its feet as it slowly lifted one foot up, the knee bending as it tentatively tried to take a step forward.

Immediately it could see its body start to shake, and it hurriedly put its foot back down before it could fall. It knew nothing about balance or how to control its weight, but it knew that it wanted to see Sang-hyuk smile when he saw what it had done. It wanted to hear his compliments. So it forced itself forward, moving quickly enough that it could balance itself before falling to the floor. With arms spread out at its sides and eyes locked on the floor, it wobbled its way to the mirror, each step careful and precise.

One step—

_“You’re so smart.”_

Two steps—

_“You look amazing.”_

Its hands instinctively shot out and caught itself on the mirror before it crumbled to the floor, its body shaking as it used its hands as a brace. Its legs moved in all directions as it tried to remember how it was supposed to stand without Sang-hyuk by its side, watching its hands slide down the mirror the longer it stood there.

_“Look at you. You’re standing up all by yourself.”_

It pulled its hands back as it let its body fall against the wall, listening to the dulled thump to make sure it made contact. With a support that kept it sturdy, it looked down to watch its hands reach back and touch the wall, pushing up so that its legs would be free to stretch completely. It stayed completely still for a few seconds, the only sound being the soft breathing escaping its lips as it allowed its body to mold in place.

Sang-hyuk…it wanted Sang-hyuk to see.

When it was sure that its body would not fall, it turned itself around so that it could see into the mirror, immediately recognizing the image from before. The person was the same, with the darkened skin and even darker eyes, the thick hair that hung over a face that it could only see as its own. It was so different from Sang-hyuk, from even Seok-jin, that it could only understand it as its own. And yet, it did not want to say so, watching the reflection match its movements as it poked itself in the eye. How could such an ugly thing be worth Sang-hyuk’s time, to even be described as amazing?

It pushed its cheeks up into the smile Sang-hyuk always gave it, and thought the sight to be nothing but negative.

“What are you doing?”

It looked up to see Sang-hyuk standing behind it in the mirror, smile wide as his hands rested on its shoulders. It had not heard him come in, turning its head slightly to see Sang-hyuk really there. Its eyes shot back to the mirror when Sang-hyuk ran his hand through its hair, leaning down to place a kiss near its ear. “Did you walk here all by yourself?” he asked, his voice low in its ear, the sound causing something inside itself to turn.

It nodded. “Me…”

“Yes, that’s you,” Sang-hyuk repeated, clutching its body tighter to himself. “My precious Y21. I’m _so_ proud of you for walking all the way over here by yourself. You did so well.”

“Proud?” it asked as Sang-hyuk began to guide it back to the bed.

“Yes. I am very proud. You are so strong and smart; I couldn’t be prouder.”

Proud…Sang-hyuk was _proud_. It liked the sound of the word, liked the sound of Sang-hyuk’s voice, and it wanted to make him proud all the time. It wanted to hear Sang-hyuk say he was proud of it.

“Today, I brought you something.” Sang-hyuk waved a bag in its face and it immediately looked down at itself, its fingers clutching around the shirt Sang-hyuk had given it yesterday.

“Clothes?” It did not want to change clothes. This was Sang-hyuk’s favorite.

Sang-hyuk blinked, having to take a second to realize what it was asking. “Oh, no!” he cried, patting its head until its hand loosened, laughing with the eyes that wanted to cry. “You can keep wearing whatever you want for as long as you like. No, I brought you something even better!” Without another word, Sang-hyuk climbed onto the bed, his hands quick as he pulled it along until they both leaned against the wall, their bodies pressed against one another as Sang-hyuk covered their legs with a blanket. It did not know what to say to such sudden behavior, silent as it watched Sang-hyuk settle, eyes taking in his bright smile and relaxed posture.

Sang-hyuk laughed when he finally met its eyes, pinching its cheek. “Surprised?” He placed his bag on the side as he reached over to fix its shirt, pausing when his fingers lifted its chin. The bright expression on his face dimmed as his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes watering as a heavy sigh compressed his chest. “You have such beautiful skin. I wish I had told you that more.”

“More?”

“Yes; more. There’s so much I wish I told you…I regret it every day. So I’m going to do my best to tell you now, okay? Don’t forget.” It did not answer, not sure what would be the correct response Sang-hyuk was searching for. However, its silence did not seem to be correct either, his eyes still watery as his smile weakened, voice trembling. “But enough of that. Here, this is what I brought you!” He dug through the bag and pulled out a small stack of books, placing them on his lap for it to see.

“I’m going to read to you every day, and tell you all kinds of stories. Doesn’t that sound fun? And maybe one day, you’ll be able to read to me. How does that sound?” It only blinked, unsure what he was asking of it, and Sang-hyuk continued as if he never stopped. “Here, this was a favorite of a friend of mine.” He shoved a book in its face, pulling it back before it could understand what he wanted it to do. “He loved Cinderella because he liked to tease me and say I was her. Isn’t that ridiculous? Why would he even think that? I’m way better than her.” He did not wait for it as he wrapped one arm around its shoulders, the other opening the book and balancing it on his lap as he began to read.

The words from the story did not catch its attention, unable to comprehend what he was saying as the only thing it could focus on was the warming lull of Sang-hyuk’s voice. The words on the page were nothing more than painted ink, its eyes drawn to the pictures that depicted people like themselves, expressions on their faces ones it had seen on Sang-hyuk many times. Crying eyes, toothy smiles, narrowed brows; it looked between Sang-hyuk and the pictures to recognize the words that described them.

Happiness.

Sadness.

Anger.

Fear.

The sadness on Cinderella’s face was a mirror image of the one it had seen on Sang-hyuk, the fear when the stepmother tore her dress the same as when Sang-hyuk cried the day they first met. As Sang-hyuk’s voice rose and fell along to the words of the story, his face contracting along to match the faces in the pictures, it wondered if Sang-hyuk’s likeness to Cinderella was why his friend had said they were alike. It could understand if that were to be true, and it wondered why such an idea did not make Sang-hyuk happy.

It reached over and clasped its fingers around Sang-hyuk’s hand, tugging it down so it was pressed against its chest. Sang-hyuk stopped mid-sentence to look at it, a question it could not answer already forming on his lips. It did not want to hear what pointless question he would ask, its brow furrowed as it pointed to the picture of Cinderella collapsed on the floor, her face in her hands as she cried amongst the torn shreds of her dress. “Sang-hyuk, do you feel this way?”

Sang-hyuk hesitated, his smile small. “Well, not like that, no.”

“You cry.”

Sang-hyuk hesitated for even longer, swallowing. “Yes, I do cry. But this is a different kind of crying. I never cried like that before.”

It mulled over the new information, its voice drawn out as it thought over the correct words to its question. “Never cried before…but you can feel that? That kind of… _sadness?”_ Sang-hyuk blinked as he stared down at the picture, his breathing slow as he said quietly,

“Of course, I can. I can feel it anytime.”

“Why can I not?” Sang-hyuk looked back up in surprise, but it did not care. It did not like the sound of sadness in Sang-hyuk’s voice, and did not like that he could feel it. It wanted to take all of Sang-hyuk’s sadness and feel it instead, letting Sang-hyuk be free to smile and laugh as much as he wanted. It did not want Sang-hyuk to feel like Cinderella. “I want to feel, but I cannot.”

“You will one day,” Sang-hyuk said softly. “I’ll make sure of it.” He ran a hand down its cheek in an attempt to stop it from asking any more questions when a loud, foreign bang came from the other side of the door. It snapped its head curiously toward the sound, never having heard anything other than Sang-hyuk’s voice. It could not have been Seok-jin, the other man having freely walked in on them on numerous occasions. It wondered if it was a new person, another being in the dimension known as the outside, and it leaned forward as it waited for that person to come in.

“Stay here,” Sang-hyuk said, his face blank as he threw the book down and walked to the door, opening it just slightly so that it could not see who it was. It looked down at its back pressed against the wall, only its ankles hanging off the edge of the bed, and berated itself for not knowing how to stand up from this position. It wanted to go to Sang-hyuk’s side, to see the person that caused him to be upset and help.

It managed to lift the blanket off its legs with clumsy fingers, its head snapping up at the sound of Sang-hyuk stepping out of the room, in time to see a pair of unknown eyes silently watching it from around the doorframe. It had never seen the man that the eyes belonged too, the face both unfamiliar and comforting all at once. It slowly fell back against the wall as it kept its gaze level with the silent man, tilting its head as Sang-hyuk’s voice filtered in softly.

It at first wondered if the strange man was the one who had called for Sang-hyuk, yet when Sang-hyuk left the room and the man stayed by the crack in the doorway, it no longer believed so. The man did not leave to follow Sang-hyuk, nor did he move to say anything, only staring in a way that left it confused.

Careful, it raised its hand and waved uncertainly, watching to see if the stranger would do the same. He did not, and before it could think of anything to say, the man ran away.

“Kim Seok-jin,” Sang-hyuk’s voice shouted, reentering the room on the heels of Seok-jin as the latter hurried towards it with a large syringe in his hand. It watched as Seok-jin reached out to grab its hand when Sang-hyuk pulled back on his shoulder, his fingers white as they dug into the other man’s coat. It looked between the two of them as it tried to understand the flurry of emotion on their faces, recognizing a mixture of fear and anger on them both. It pursed its lips as it once again tried to move off the bed, its movements clumsy and useless.

“I-I’m sorry, Sang-hyuk, sir,” Seok-jin said, his voice trembling. “I was ordered to-”

“Then I order you _not_ to. I already told them I don’t want anyone touching him.”

“They said it didn’t matter. It’s already been progressing a lot; they want to start the tests and-”

“ _No. No one_ is allowed to test on him. I already _told_ them that! They put me in charge and he’s _mine.”_ Sang-hyuk suddenly turned to look down at it, hobbled over and struggling as it tried to push its legs off the bed, and he was quick to push Seok-jin away as he placed his hands on its shoulders, stopping him. “Y21, what are you doing? Here, calm down, it’s okay.” It allowed Sang-hyuk to guide its body back onto the bed, its eyes sharp as they watched the way Sang-hyuk laid it down so its head rested on the pillow, pulling the blanket up to its chin. It was not sure what he was doing or why, but it was careful to note everything to show him later.

“Sir-”

“I told you not to call me that,” Sang-hyuk said, his eyes hard as they refused to look anywhere other than his own hands. It wondered what they were arguing about to cause such an expression on his face—such negativity, such _anger._ Such an expression did not look well on him.

“Sang-hyuk, we have to. You know they want to, and they’d be furious if they found out we didn’t do it. We can at least give the serum to shut it down, and if you can convince them to stop, then it’ll wake up like nothing happened.”

“Stop calling him an ‘it’,” Sang-hyuk whispered, leaning down so close that it could count the hairs lining his fringe. It could see the tears in his eyes, and it wanted to reach up and wipe them away. Sang-hyuk always cried so easily; if only it did not want to move the arms that Sang-hyuk had so carefully covered. “He was human, he still _is_ human. He is a _he._ Not an ‘it’. _Don’t call him an it!_ ”

Seok-jin stayed silent for a long while, biting his bottom lip as he stared at them. “…I’m sorry.”

It managed to meet Sang-hyuk’s gaze briefly, taking that opportunity to ask, “I am not an ‘it’?”

Tears ran down Sang-hyuk’s face as he cupped its cheek, smiling his tearful smile as he shook his head. “No, baby. You’re not an ‘it’. Please don’t think that. Don’t let anyone make you think that.” His hand moved up to its hair, gone and forgotten as he choked on a sob. “You’re so much more than an ‘it’. My baby, you-”

“Sang-hyuk, sir,” Seok-jin interrupted warningly, only taking a step forward when Sang-hyuk sent him a narrowed glare.

“I know my boundaries, Kim Seok-jin. You don’t need to remind me.” He waited a few seconds before turning back to it, all smiles and light voices, continuing as if never interrupted. “Y21, you are not some science experiment, do you understand? You’re precious, so remember that you are not an ‘it’. You are a _‘he’_ , a ‘ _him_ ’, a human _being_ , okay?”

“I understand,” it responded, a lie it did not know it could make only so it could see Sang-hyuk smile. Its lie was rewarded with that very smile, the tears now dotting his coat as Sang-hyuk slowly stood up and moved back. Seok-jin did not move at first, his fingers playing with the needle of the syringe before taking a step forward, checking with Sang-hyuk before doing anything.

“May I-?”

“Do whatever you want. But if anything happens to him, I’m coming for you first.”

Seok-jin did not seem to know how to answer, biting his lip again as he came over to its side, pulling away the blanket to grab its arm. It did not know what he was doing, looking to Sang-hyuk for help only to find the man purposefully looking away. It mimicked Sang-hyuk’s expression as he watched Seok-jin take a wipe to clean its arm, pressing the needle to its skin. It again looked to Sang-hyuk for help, unable to understand what was happening.

However, Sang-hyuk did not help, and with a quick jab into the skin, it felt its eyes forcefully close and its world descend into darkness.


	11. Realign

Its entire body was unresponsive when its mind finally decided to wake, ignoring its wishes as it tried to move its arms. While it still could not feel, it had learned to adapt, and was slowly becoming better at moving around. But without its eyes, any progress would be meaningless, and as such its current predicament left its chest gasping and its mind whirling to try and understand what was happening.

_“You do not belong here.”_

It stopped, the unfamiliar voice booming in its ears as it tried to figure out where it was coming from. It was not Sang-hyuk, able to recognize the latter’s voice from a soft sigh alone. It was not Seok-jin either—the voice was deep and heavy and filled with a sadness that outweighed Sang-hyuk’s teary voice by far. It tried to open its mouth to answer, to ask who he was and what he wanted, only to find his mouth just as responsive as the rest of his body.

_“Everything is wrong. You are too pale. Your eyes are too smooth. Your chest is heavy. It is all wrong.”_

It thought back to the image in the mirror, remembering its face and all the details the voice listed, unable to disagree with any of it. When it compared itself to Sang-hyuk, which it was wont to do, it could only notice how bright Sang-hyuk’s eyes were compared to its own, his skin full of life and entire being emitting an exuberance infused with energy. It did not see that in itself, its eyes blank and its skin washed out and sickly.

While unknown, the voice seemed to know more about itself than it did.

_“You should not be here. It is so unnatural; I cannot stand to look at you like this.”_

It wanted to apologize, to ask for forgiveness for something that it could not control. The face in the mirror twisted and contorted until only a blur remained, so ugly it could not even look at it.

_“You should not look like me.”_

It wanted, but…

_“I am sorry.”_

“Y21, baby, can you hear me?”

A smile unknowingly passed over its… _his…_ face when he saw Sang-hyuk beside it, looking around his surroundings to see it— _he_ —was lying on the bed. Sang-hyuk leaned forward as he returned his—its—no, _his_ smile, running his hand through his hair as he repeatedly whispered how happy he was to see it. It instinctively leaned into his touch, its inability to feel unable to stop its body from enjoying Sang-hyuk’s comforting presence.

Sang-hyuk chuckled warmly, its eyes looking up to see him shake his head. “You’re silly, you know that? Always so silly.”

If being silly was what it took, then it would be silly every day.

Sang-hyuk was beautiful when he smiled, when he laughed.

“Y21, baby, do you…do you feel any different today?” It—he—mimicked Sang-hyuk’s expression at the slight waver in Sang-hyuk’s voice, unable to match the uncertainty in his tone to the smile on his face. He wanted to answer, but was unable to decide what Sang-hyuk wanted, waiting instead for him to reword the question so he could understand. Sang-hyuk did exactly that, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands. “Ah, sorry. Is there anything different about your body today?”

“Different?” He lifted his head up slightly to look down at his body, mimicking Sang-hyuk’s expression again when it saw the blanket covering everything up to its chest. It could not tell if anything was expected to be different, but was unsure how to answer when it could not see. His one hand still held in Sang-hyuk’s, it reached out with the other, his fingers barely brushing the fabric when a stilted jolt shot through its entire body, a terrible shout escaping his lips.

“Y21!” Sang-hyuk cried, lurching forward when its whole upper body shot up, its chest heaving as it yanked its hands back, keeping them up in the air and away from everything. Sang-hyuk was careful not to touch its hands, instead gently turning its shoulders so that he could look it in the eye, his fingers bundled in the fabric of its shirt. He looked so…worried. “Y21, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I do not know.”

“What? Y21-” Sang-hyuk’s fingers just barely touched its own when that same horrible jolt engulfed his hand in a painful fire, and he ripped himself away so quickly it could hear the loud bang of its body hitting the wall. Sang-hyuk looked horrified, but he could not pay attention to that, too terrified and distracted. He could not feel, his nerves were severed; that was what Sang-hyuk had said. It had spent long hours teaching itself to walk because of it, had been praised by Sang-hyuk because of it; what was suddenly so wrong with his hand?

“Y21, baby, look at me. Please look at me.” He jumped when he heard Sang-hyuk’s hand tap the wrinkled blankets, curling in on himself when he saw him climb onto the bed. Each movement was careful, his eyes running over its body for any change; Sang-hyuk made sure there was a surmountable distance between the two when he sat down, keeping his hands in his lap and his posture relaxed. It did not know how much effect just his posture alone would have, having been trained to feel comfortable when Sang-hyuk sat in such a way.

“Sang-hyuk…” he whispered, his voice shaking, and he could see Sang-hyuk’s body twitch at the sound.

“Y21, everything is going to be okay. But I need you to tell me what’s wrong. What feels different?”

“Hand.”

“What’s wrong with it? Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll do what I can to fix it.”

“Feel…I can feel and…and it burns. Burns, Sang-hyuk.” It expected Sang-hyuk to be as surprised as it was, though all it saw was Sang-hyuk’s lips pressed tight together, his eyes closed as he let out a long breath. He was not sure what that meant, his mind whirling as he waited for Sang-hyuk to help.

“It burns?” Sang-hyuk asked when he opened his eyes, his frown deep as he stared down into its lap where the trembling hand hid. It nodded, whimpering when Sang-hyuk reached out to take it, and Sang-hyuk paused. He looked so… _sad._ “Y21, baby, I promise I won’t hurt you. I just need you to trust me; you can do that, can’t you, baby?”

It nodded again, too overwhelmed to speak, and Sang-hyuk gave it a wonderful smile.

“Okay. Now, I’m going to take your hand. I promise I won’t hurt you. It’ll be okay…” Sang-hyuk’s voice trailed off as he crawled over to sit beside it, their knees touching and arms brushing together. When it instinctively flinched back at Sang-hyuk trying to take its hand, he pulled back immediately, instead wrapping an arm around its back. He could hear the sound of Sang-hyuk placing a kiss by its ear.

“You’re so wonderful, Y21. You’re so smart, and brave. I’m so proud of you…you always make me so proud.”

With the sound of Sang-hyuk’s voice singing praises in its ear, his words filling his whole body and making him soar, it was caught completely off guard when Sang-hyuk’s hand carefully slid down and wrapped around his hand. It cried out in surprise at the sudden touch, trying to pull away, but Sang-hyuk held tightly, would not let it go as he began to rub his thumb against its skin.

“You’re so brave, Y21. You make me so proud.”

He let out a long whine as continuous sparks shot up its arm with each time Sang-hyuk moved his thumb, trying his best to get Sang-hyuk’s attention. Sang-hyuk had never treated it like this before; it wanted to ask him why he was doing this, when, little by little, the shock lessened, the touch becoming almost soothing. His small cries lessened as it stared down at their hands, Sang-hyuk never slowing as he continued to rub circles into his hand.  

Sang-hyuk laughed quietly in his ear, giving him another kiss. “I told you, I won’t hurt you.” When it turned to look at him, confused, Sang-hyuk laughed again, tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you first. I didn’t think you would have such a shock.”

“I do not understand…”

“Yesterday, do you remember Seok-jin coming in here and putting you to sleep?” It nodded, unsure what he was trying to say, and Sang-hyuk sighed softly. “Y21…I didn’t want anyone to touch you, and I tried my best to keep you safe. There are a lot of bad people in the world, and many of them are watching you, and want to do bad things to you. I tried to stop them, but…I couldn’t.”

It stayed quiet, giving Sang-hyuk as much time as he needed to speak.

“Yesterday…they took you away to…to do a test.”

It ran through all the facial expressions it could make before landing on what it concluded to be an appropriate one, frowning with sad eyes as Sang-hyuk’s fingers tightened around his hand. There was so much stimuli at once, every second sending another spark that shook his brain and flooded his eyes, that he could barely hear Sang-hyuk speak. But he did not want to make Sang-hyuk cry any more than he already had, keeping the worry a secret as it listened the best he could.

“They wanted you to be able to feel again, so they tried to give you a new skin set with the newest nerve settings. The only thing is…your body is still human, and isn’t compatible with what they had. So they…” Sang-hyuk paused for a second, blinking away tears as a short sob escaped his lips, “…they cut off your hand and replaced it with a new one, one that can feel and touch and do everything your old one could before.”

He could hear Sang-hyuk let out a small whimper when he pulled his hand away, narrowing its eyes as it tried to look for anything wrong. Nothing about his hand looked different, the skin the same color as the rest of him and just as flaky. He still had all five fingers, complete with fingernails and wrinkles from where the joints bent and flexed; it all appeared the same until it hesitantly placed its palms together. Almost immediately it could feel the now familiar tremors trail up its right arm, and he ripped his hands apart before he could feel any more, staring in thought.

“So, I can feel now?”

“With just that hand. I…I wouldn’t let them do anything else. I’m sorry, Y21. I didn’t want to do this to you.”

“Why?”

“What?” Sang-hyuk finally looked him in the eye, for the first time looking confused at a question _he_ asked, and it raised its lips in a smile as he leaned forward and placed his hands on Sang-hyuk’s cheeks. One hand was silent as the other raced at the touch, though it fought through it all to keep up his smile, drinking in the sight of Sang-hyuk’s wide eyes and parted lips. Sang-hyuk was so perfect and wonderful, so different from itself, and it felt the sudden urge to protect him, to keep him safe in the same way Sang-hyuk proclaimed to always do.

With measured motions, it leaned forward to place its lips over Sang-hyuk’s, letting its body move on its own. He was only able to tell they touched from the way Sang-hyuk’s jaw jerked under his fingers, pulling away to see Sang-hyuk’s face flushed red. It was not sure what such a color meant, or if it had been the cause of it. It hoped it had not accidentally hurt him.

“I am not sad about the replacement of my hand, so you should not either.”

Sang-hyuk’s brow furrowed, his face scrunching into an expression it could not recognize. There were so many other emotions and expressions it had not yet learned yet, had not seen in the storybooks yet; it wanted to learn them all as soon as possible, if only so he could understand Sang-hyuk that much sooner.

“B-but…you _should_ be sad. They cut off your hand! They cut off your hand and gave you a new one without your permission! They shouldn’t…they shouldn’t do that…not to you…”

It did not understand what Sang-hyuk was so upset about, could not see why replacing what no longer worked was considered wrong. But it would not say this, not when Sang-hyuk was crying in front of it. He determinedly moved his hand up to brush Sang-hyuk’s lashes, gasping at the gentle brush against his fingertips. So thin, so pretty; it matched Sang-hyuk so perfectly.

“Do not be sad, Sang-hyuk. I am so happy, because now I can touch you. Now I can know what you feel like.”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened even further, his voice lost and afraid, and it took this time to run his hand all over Sang-hyuk’s face—touching his nose, rubbing his lips, twirling his hair between his fingers. It was all so new, and it laughed as he traced Sang-hyuk’s arms, feeling his shirt and tugging at his pants. Was this what touch felt like? It was so exhilarating. He could not stop touching, his fingers never leaving Sang-hyuk as he continued to laugh.

Sang-hyuk suddenly caught its hand, stopping it cold and effectively ripping his breathlessness straight from his chest. His eyes were sad, his cheeks stained, and it silently berated itself for being so careless while Sang-hyuk cried.

“Do you…do you really think like that?” It watched so many expressions pass over Sang-hyuk’s face all at once, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks when it nodded, and he hung his head. It wanted to apologize, lift Sang-hyuk’s chin up and ask him not cry, when Sang-hyuk smiled, his lips trembling and sad. Sang-hyuk always seemed to be able to smile when he was sad, a feat it was not sure how was possible, and one it wished he did not have.

“Then…I will try to be happy for you.” It blinked when Sang-hyuk shifted his hand to press against its own, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. By now his hand was calm at the contact, cool and soft against Sang-hyuk’s warm skin, and it stared at their fingers in silent wonder. They appeared almost made for each other, long and slim as they whitened and shook along with their wishes. While it was not completely sure how he came to be, he felt he would not be upset if it was created for the sole purpose of being by Sang-hyuk’s side.

 

He waited until the light came back on before slipping off the bed, taking slow, deliberate steps as he trailed his fingers over the edge of the desk, letting his fingertips catch on the lip. His movements were stilted and his eyes unable to look away from its feet, and yet he was able to know everything his hand touched, each brush sending signals to his brain in a way he never knew possible. Having lived in a world where everything existed based on what its eyes and ears could perceive, the realization that its body had the ability to experience the world in a completely new way gave it a rush it could barely contain.

It did not need to imagine Sang-hyuk’s words in its ear as he trailed its fingers over the cabinet doors, letting its fingers pause over the metal handle. This time, it wanted to move for itself, to experiment and see just what its new hand could do.

A small, sharp point at the edge of the cabinet pricked his finger, and he stared in silent wonder as the hole seamlessly sewed closed.

Sang-hyuk had promised him that he would never let anyone touch him again, and while he had thanked him, he could not feel happy about the rest of his body being denied from what there really was to offer. He had tried to imagine what it was like for his entire body to feel like his hand could, though was unable to conjure ideas his brain could not conceptualize. It just left him empty and alone, watching Sang-hyuk move through the room with an easy grace it could never recreate.  

He moved back to the side of his bed, his fingers hesitating over the rough plastic of Sang-hyuk’s chair, when the door suddenly opened. It immediately turned to greet Sang-hyuk, an ingrained habit that always made Sang-hyuk smile, though it paused upon seeing someone else entirely standing by the door.

The man had a youthful appearance, his skin smooth and without any of the wrinkles that seemed permanently etched into Sang-hyuk’s face. His eyes were wide and his lips pursed, his rounded cheeks revealing faint dimples that glistened under the soft light. As it stared, the man’s mouth fell open slightly, the dimples deepening, and it briefly wondered if everyone outside the door was beautiful, imagining Sang-hyuk and how perfect this man would be beside him.

“Hello,” it said when the man made no move to speak, frozen with his hand on the doorknob and one foot already in the room. It wondered if the man had been expecting Sang-hyuk, and was disappointed at only finding itself instead. He wanted to apologize, though did not when the man’s hand on the doorknob tightened, trembling. “Are you looking for Sang-hyuk? He is not here right now. I am sure if you waited, you will see him.”

The man shook his head slightly, and it frowned confusedly. “Do you not want to see him?”

The man hesitated, shaking his head again. “You do not want to see Sang-hyuk?” The man nodded this time, taking a small step back, and it subconsciously took a step toward him, a hand reaching out as if to grab something it could not see. While they both stared at his hand in silence, it was enough to make the man stop. “Did you come to see me?” 

A deep flash of sadness that rivaled Sang-hyuk’s passed over the man’s face, a reaction it did not recognize and so instead smiled widely. He tried to remember all that Sang-hyuk taught it as he attempted to brighten his face the way Sang-hyuk’s would when he smiled, letting its hand slip from Sang-hyuk’s chair and clench the soft fabric of its shirt.

“Really? You came to see me?” The man still refused to answer but it paid that no attention, stumbling forward a few steps only to stop when the man scrambled back. “Did you need anything? I am not able to do much, but I will help you if I can. Do you—would you like to sit down? I am sure Sang-hyuk would not mind if you used his chair.” It tripped over itself trying to get to the man, missing the look of sheer panic on the other’s face as it caught itself, using its good hand to support itself as it stood back up.

By then the man’s face was blank again, watching as it tried to bring up its smile again. “Sorry, I am still learning how to walk.” He waited for the man to say something, anything, and wondered if it had said something to have caused the man to stay so silent. It had never had any experience creating conversation outside of Sang-hyuk’s daily tests, even then never initiating conversation on his own. It would not know if it said something to upset the man, and would have no idea how to visually tell if the man was unhappy.

However, before he was able to try anything, another face appeared in the doorway, it recognizing Sang-hyuk immediately. It was unable to greet him when Sang-hyuk looked down at the man, who now appeared as if he wanted to run away.

“T52? What are you doing here?”

“He came to see me,” it answered when the man made no move to respond, and Sang-hyuk’s expression fell as he let out a soft sigh, a hand coming up to rest on the man’s shoulder. T52 jumped at the touch, stepping away, and it wondered if they knew each other. Sang-hyuk seemed to know everybody, so knowledgeable about the world and experienced with how to use it, that it would not be confused if they had some relation. Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to say something when T52 shoved him aside and ran, the muted padding of his footsteps fading along with him.

He watched Sang-hyuk slowly shut the door behind him before looking up to see it still standing by the desk, his hand supporting his body weight, and it wrenched its hand back. A small smile grew on Sang-hyuk’s lips, running a hand through his hair as he walked over to it, chuckling.

“What are you doing?”

It did not answer as it sat back down on the bed and assumed its normal position, its back straight and its hands placed firmly on its knees. From Sang-hyuk’s confused questions and the man, T52’s, reaction, the only possible conclusion it could come to was that T52 was not supposed to have been here. It made sense, considering how T52 refused to speak and appeared afraid at the sight of him. It did not want to do something it was not allowed to do, and did not want to see Sang-hyuk upset. It only wanted to make him proud.  

Sang-hyuk frowned, sitting down, his hands moving forward as if to touch it but pulling away in the end. “Hey, did he say anything to you? What’s wrong?” It was unsure what he was asking, unable to discern the correct answer and did not speak. Sang-hyuk hissed softly as he carefully reached out and took its hand, his lips tight when it let out a small gasp at the touch.

Sang-hyuk’s hands…they were so different from anything in the room, so soft and gentle.

“Y21, do you know who that man was?” That was a question it understood, able to answer appropriately and recognize the sadness on Sang-hyuk’s face. It did not want to mention the strange familiarity its body felt at the sight of T52, nor did it want to mention how beautiful it thought he was. Such thoughts were not what Sang-hyuk asked, nor did they seem to be things he would want to hear. When he saw Sang-hyuk take a deep breath, smiling widely, it knew it had made the right decision.

“His name is T52, he’s another one of the…people who stay here.”

“Stay?”

“Yes. He lives here just like you do.” He lifted their hands up, interlocking their fingers and pressing a soft kiss to their knuckles. “He’s just like you.”

Its brows furrowed at the implications behind Sang-hyuk’s words. “You do not live here?”

Sang-hyuk blinked, his mouth hanging open confusedly until he understood the question, his laugh shaky. “Ah, no. I don’t live here. My home is a few floors down. I come upstairs just to see you.” His hand moved up to run through its hair, though it could focus on nothing but the fact that Sang-hyuk did not live in the same place as itself. He pulled his hand away, paying no attention to the surprise on Sang-hyuk’s face as he refused his touch.

Sang-hyuk was his entire world, the only thing he knew was real. Seok-jin, this new T52—they were not the same as Sang-hyuk. Sang-hyuk was the first person it remembered, was the majority of the memories it had; he did not know what to do if Sang-hyuk one day disappeared.

But to hear he did not live here, that he lived somewhere else and only came up to see it…it appeared Sang-hyuk did not think the same.

Sang-hyuk hissed lowly, shifting in his chair as he opened and closed his mouth, his expression one that it could not read. “I…Y21…that’s not what I meant.” Sang-hyuk eventually placed a hand on his knee. “Y21, please don’t be angry. I…I can’t live on this floor. But if I could, I would. I wish I could be with you, I _want_ to be with you…please don’t be angry at me. I can’t handle it if you’re angry at me.”

“I am not angry,” he responded, his voice barely above a whisper, matching Sang-hyuk’s soft, pleading tone. “I do not understand what my body feels.”

Sang-hyuk nodded, making sure he was okay before taking his hand again. It was something Sang-hyuk began to do a lot, always touching so it would have the chance to feel. “It will be like that for a long time. But like I promised, I will be here every step of the way. I want you to be happy…but I can’t give it to you like I want. That’s why…” Sang-hyuk’s voice trailed off as he stared down at their hands, opening its hand and tracing its palm, “…you should try and be friends with T52.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.” Sang-hyuk’s smile was small, his eyes wet, and it knew he was about to cry. Sang-hyuk always cried so easily. “I can’t be here all the time, and when I’m not you just sit here all by yourself. But T52, he lives here. You can see each other every day and hang out, play games, and all kinds of stuff. He would be so much better than terrible me—you should try and be friends with him.”

“I do not think that you are terrible.”

Sang-hyuk chuckled, the sound cracking. “Thank you, baby. But really, you know I can’t be here all the time. I have to go to work and go home, what do you do when I’m not here?” He took its silence for his answer, nodding. “T52 can be here anytime you want to see him. You can’t leave your room yet, but T52 could come see you whenever you want. He would be a perfect friend for you.”

He blinked as he tried to comprehend everything Sang-hyuk rushed him with, matching Sang-hyuk’s smile when it could not determine which expression would be appropriate for its response. “You want him to be my friend so that he can be here when you are not?”

“Yes,” Sang-hyuk laughed, squeezing his hand.

“Then I will.” If it made Sang-hyuk happy, then he would try. It only wanted to make him proud. And yet— “My friend; you want him to be my friend so that he could…hang out with me, play with me, and keep me company.” It kept its matching smile as it asked slowly, “Then, do you have a friend?”

Sang-hyuk’s first reaction was to shoot out of his seat, hurriedly walking over to the other end of the room and burying his face in his hands, slamming his head against the wall. He had never seen such a reaction from Sang-hyuk before, the man always calm and collected regardless of what he asked. It ran over what it could have said to cause such a reaction, watching Sang-hyuk critically when his shoulders heaved, his body hunched over and his normally matted hair a mess.

It did not like the sound of Sang-hyuk crying, sobs that sounded forced and real, so different from the little whimpers he would let out whenever it did something wrong. When Sang-hyuk began to cough, his hands moving up to tangle in his hair, it crawled off the bed, its hand out and keeping against the desk for support as it made its way over to Sang-hyuk’s side. Sang-hyuk did not see or hear him, his head still against the wall, and it took that moment of distraction to let its body guide itself, its arms instinctively wrapping around Sang-hyuk’s waist. Sang-hyuk stopped mid-sob, his hands pulling away from his hair and turning enough to look down at it, his eyes rimmed red.

“Y21-”

“Do not cry.” Sang-hyuk silently turned away, knocking his head on the wall again and staying so still it had to lean forward to make sure he was still awake. “I did not mean to bring unwanted memories. I will not ask again. Please do not cry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I did—I-I do have a friend, yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to react like that.”

“Did something happen to your friend? Do you see him often?”

“I…no…not anymore.” Sang-hyuk took that moment to unwrap himself from its arms, turning around and pulling him close against his body, his back flush against the wall. He pressed its head to his chest, his body stiff, and it stayed completely still as it allowed him to do what he wanted. It could hear him breathe, each sound rushing past its ears, and it wondered if the topic of his friend had been the cause of such sadness.

“I…I’m going to tell you a story, one that is my favorite. There…there was once a little boy that lived in the woods. He was a small, scared little boy, and the woods were very big and very thick, so the sun rarely could make it to his little house. He spent all his time there, and he was very lonely.

“But the little boy had one friend that kept him company so he wasn’t alone. The little boy loved his friend a lot. But the friend couldn’t come very often, so he was still lonely. He always dreamed of going outside and exploring the world, but he was too scared to leave.”

It tried to look up at him, wanting to see the expressions Sang-hyuk would make when telling a story, since he was unable to imagine without the pictures to guide his thoughts. But Sang-hyuk pushed its head back down, forcing it still.

“The little boy’s father was a very mean man, and didn’t want anyone to see the little boy. One day, when the little boy’s friend was visiting, the man found him, and was furious. He cursed the friend, demanding him to leave and never come back. The little boy’s friend was very brave, and tried to defend the little boy, saying he had every right to stay. He accused the father of not loving the little boy, and the friend declared he would take care of him.

“The little boy’s father was so angry he couldn’t speak, slapping the friend’s face and grabbing him by the back of the neck. The friend was still very brave, refusing to listen as he cried for the little boy. The little boy was so useless, so scared, and he watched his father drag his friend out of the house. The friend’s head was bleeding and the little boy cried, hiding his face in his blankets.

“By then the friend couldn’t speak anymore, in so much pain and afraid of the little boy’s father. He stood outside the little house but did not go inside when the father slammed the door shut. The little boy watched him from the window but didn’t say anything, crying pathetically to himself when the friend eventually left.”

It listened to Sang-hyuk’s story intently, some of the descriptions so detailed it could not fully understand. His voice was slow, full of emotions it had never heard before. It wrapped its hand in Sang-hyuk’s coat as he spoke, remembering the story of Cinderella and perplexed at how different this story was from it. This story did not start with a simple ‘once upon a time’, did not appear to have any levity that brought smiles in the pictures or softness to Sang-hyuk’s voice. There was nothing of that with this little boy, and it did not know what that was supposed to imply.

“But…the little boy’s father had been doing a lot of bad things, and the king was so angry he sent his soldiers to go and kill his family. They killed the father and mother, but they didn’t know the little boy was there. When they found the little boy, they were going to kill him too, but when they saw how small and scared he was, they decided to let him live. They took him and kept him prisoner, and he was put in the dungeons under the castle.”

It noticed the discrepancy in the story, a part that was skipped, and it ripped itself from Sang-hyuk’s hard grip to look him in the eye. “What happened to the friend?”

Sang-hyuk had fresh tears running down his face, shaking his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. “The friend hadn’t been scared by the father, and still came to visit the little boy in his little house. They didn’t see each other often because they had to hide from the father, but they were still friends. That friend was so loyal, so brave, that when the little boy was taken by the king’s soldiers, he went with him.”

“So, the little boy and his friend are still together?”

It took Sang-hyuk a long time to answer. “Yes. But the little boy was not allowed to say anything to him, and they could only speak as strangers.” He took a deep breath. “It is not a happy story, and I’m sorry for telling you one like that. You’re nothing like the useless little boy; if you wanted friends, it would never end up like that. T52 and I would never let it happen.”

“But the little boy and his friend are still together. It is a happy story, is it not?”

Sang-hyuk stared at it with wide eyes for the longest time, his body shaking, before he suddenly grabbed its face, lurching forward and smashing its face into his chest. It did not react, letting him do what he wanted, unfamiliar with the implication of such a hug. When Sang-hyuk finally pulled away, he pushed its hair from his eyes and kissed all over his face, letting out sounds that felt like sobs mixed with laughter.

“If you think it’s a happy story,” he whispered, his words intermixed with continuous kisses, “then believe that. Believe in whatever happiness you can, my baby.”

As it stood by Sang-hyuk’s side and listened to the sound of kisses being pressed all over himself, he smiled. He would stand here and let Sang-hyuk do whatever he wanted—kiss, hug, laugh, cry—if it meant that he could help him.

It only wanted to make him proud.


	12. Unnoticeable

Sang-hyuk was not ready when he found Won-shik waiting for him in his office, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, smiling without a care in the world.

His mind whirled desperately.

Won-shik didn’t go into Sang-hyuk’s office, never went anywhere near Sang-hyuk’s workplaces unless he was absolutely sure Sang-hyuk could handle it. He was Won-shik’s favorite, definitely, but he knew Sang-hyuk’s limits and never crossed them. The fact that he was here now meant that there was something extremely important that Sang-hyuk needed to attend to _now._ And the fact that Sang-hyuk knew exactly what that was terrified him.

“Hello, Hyukkie,” Won-shik said cheerfully, the brush of seriousness in his tone near palpable as he swung his feet off the desk. Sang-hyuk forced a small smile on his face as he finally turned to face him, his fingers on his bag nearly crushing it. Won-shik’s eyes narrowed in on his fingers, and Sang-hyuk had to use all his willpower to loosen them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just have some stuff to tell you and I needed to make sure you didn’t sneak by me again.”

It took all of Sang-hyuk’s focus for his voice not to stutter. “Sorry; force of habit.”

Won-shik didn’t appear completely convinced, though he thankfully dropped the subject. “I wish I could say not to get worried, but I know you. Joon-myeon wants to see you the moment you get a chance—preferably before you go see X39.”

Sang-hyuk could immediately feel the cold sweat collect on his skin, his stomach clenching into a tight knot. He knew it would happen. It was only natural Joon-myeon and the other higher-ups would see the footage from his and Hong-bin’s last few sessions, and would see how much had changed. Hong-bin’s smiles; his laughs, his soft touches—they had seen it all, and Sang-hyuk knew they would take it away again.

Returning memories would only corrupt the system, the cyborgs only useful if they ran on the completely fabricated memories they purposefully fostered into them.

They were going to take his Hong-bin away again, and there was nothing he or Won-shik could do to stop it.

Sang-hyuk nodded when he saw Won-shik waiting, his face cracking around the corners of his smile. “I…okay. When—when is he free?”

Won-shik grimaced. “I’d give him an hour or so. There’s a big sponsor meeting coming up next week, so he’s been getting ready for it.” Won-shik’s lips pursed at the mention of the sponsors, both knowing exactly what that meant. The sponsors, the backers, the ones who knew exactly what their lab was doing and were completely willing to fund it. If it wasn’t for Sang-hyuk’s uncomfortable connection to them, he would abhor their very existence, unable to stomach anyone who condoned what they did daily.

But with Hak-yeon oblivious at home, he could do nothing but smile and nod at anything they did. And Won-shik knew it.

Sang-hyuk could barely keep his voice above a whisper, his fingers shaking. “So…they’re coming next week?”

“Yeah. They heard about the girl that survived Test 2, and want to check her out. I don’t know much about her, but she’s the first girl that survived, so they’re pretty interested.” He let out a long sigh as he pushed himself out of the chair. “Just make sure everything with X39 is up to date.” He waited until Sang-hyuk gave him a small nod, heading towards the door and pausing briefly. “You know, I heard you and Sung-jae went out for drinks last night.”

Sang-hyuk froze, turning to see Won-shik staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face that had Sang-hyuk’s insides turning. He forced his voice steady. “Yeah? We went to the new bar down the street.”

Won-shik nodded thoughtfully, stuffing a hand in his pocket. “Sounds nice. It’s always good to do something outside work, get your mind off things.” His other hand slipped away from the doorknob, letting out a soft hum as he leaned against the wall. “You should try and go out more, Hyuk. You’re a good kid, letting Hak-yeon go out and all, but you should do it for yourself too. Spending too much time here will kill you.”

“I…ah, okay.” Sang-hyuk mumbled, surprised, and slightly touched, at the warmth in the other’s voice. From the beginning, Won-shik had always treated Sang-hyuk differently from the other interns, always joking and touchy, and Sang-hyuk had felt uncomfortable with the attention. Won-shik was Won-shik, crude and tactless yet caring in his own way, and it wasn’t until now that he felt that care, that warmth, and Sang-hyuk was wonderfully grateful for it. “Thanks.”

Won-shik smiled, the first genuine smile Sang-hyuk had seen on him in a long time. “No problem. I care about you, you know? As much as I love watching you piss yourself, I do want you to be happy.” He looked down at his watch, hissing. “Alright, you better get ready, Joon-myeon will be done soon, and he’ll want to see you right away.”

“Okay, thanks…again,” he said, and this time he meant it.

 

Sang-hyuk paced back and forth in his office as he watched the minutes slowly tick away, dreading the moment he would get the call to see Joon-myeon. His fingers anxiously shook as he wrapped them around his stomach, his breath stuttering as he tried to keep calm. He wished Won-shik had told him more about what Joon-myeon had looked like, if only to have a better idea of what the hell he wanted from him. Based on what he knew of the higher-ups and Joon-myeon in particular, he knew they would be furious at him attempting to do things with Hong-bin without permission, especially when progress was being made—positive or otherwise.

He had no idea if they were going to punish him, if they were going to punish _Hak-yeon—_ he could feel his heart stop at the thought, freezing. Their threats were always vague, hidden underneath false vagaries, and he was suddenly overcome with the biggest urge to run home to make sure Hak-yeon was okay.

How could he have sat down and actually talked with Hong-bin, without reporting, when he had Hak-yeon at home?

How could he have been so _stupid?_

No matter how much he missed Hong-bin, he should never have chanced anything when Hak-yeon’s safety, Hak-yeon’s _life,_ rested entirely in his hands.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he finally received the call, Joon-myeon’s voice as cheery as always, giving nothing away. It made his skin crawl, and Sang-hyuk could feel cold shivers run up his body as he silently made his way down the many halls, his stomach tightening with overwhelming dread. He couldn’t help thinking about Sung-jae’s story last night, remembering the kind man who had helped the both of them when they first started. All he could imagine was that same man strapped to the table, pleading uselessly as Sung-jae was forced to kill him. It sounded so ridiculous and yet completely plausible, and Sang-hyuk was unable to dismiss that it would be something the higher-ups would do.

He had no idea what he would do if he walked in to see Hak-yeon strapped to a table, terrified and confused as everyone waited for Sang-hyuk to kill him. His hands trembled at the mere thought, knowing he would never be able to willingly take the life of the one man he loved with all his heart. He would rather kill himself than be forced to take Hak-yeon’s life.

He stopped outside Joon-myeon’s door, pausing to take a deep, steadying breath as he pushed all the horrifying thoughts as far back in his mind as possible. Joon-myeon was always looking for openings to attack, his smile and kind words nothing compared to what he could actually do.

His skin crawled when he heard Joon-myeon’s distracted greeting as he slowly opened the door, the soft knocks barely audible. Joon-myeon threw down whatever he was looking at as he quickly waved Sang-hyuk over, his eyes sharp as he watched Sang-hyuk slowly sit down across from him. Nothing in his face or posture gave anything away, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help expecting the worst as his fingers tightened around his pants, trying to hide his shaking. Joon-myeon laughed, noticing it right away.

“What are you so nervous for, Sang-hyuk? Didn’t Won-shik tell you why I called you here?” Sang-hyuk couldn’t trust himself to speak, only shaking his head. Joon-myeon nodded again, turning slightly to flip through a few folders on his desk, clicking his tongue as he pulled one out and opened it for Sang-hyuk to see. “Well, why don’t you take a look, hmm?”

Sang-hyuk felt his stomach drop.

Printed on numerous sheets were pictures of him and Hong-bin, the images grainy from the older security cameras. Hong-bin touching him, holding his hands, smiling, shifting, frowning—it was all there. Sang-hyuk’s eyes lingered on the picture of him and Hong-bin sitting on the bed together, knees tucked under their chins and toes brushing together. Looking at that picture, Hong-bin’s expressions and body language were clear as day, and Sang-hyuk finally recognized _his_ Hong-bin, his eyes welling up at the idea.

Joon-myeon waited patiently for Sang-hyuk to take everything in before clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you were thinking, not reporting something as important as this. How long has X39 been showing behavioral changes?”

Sang-hyuk’s fingers began to grow numb, his heart hammering in his chest and flooding his ears. “I…it-it’s not been very clear, sir. There were small instances where he knew more than he should, but he reverted back so quickly I never thought much of it.”

Joon-myeon wasn’t convinced, clicking his tongue again. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Sang-hyuk. It would be in your best interest to tell the truth.” Sang-hyuk finally looked up to see Joon-myeon staring intently, his face expressionless yet holding so much ferocity Sang-hyuk could barely breathe. Hak-yeon…he had to protect Hak-yeon—but Hong-bin, he couldn’t— “Now, how long has X39 been acting differently?”

Sang-hyuk’s heart felt as if it was ripped in half, unable to reconcile the fact that he had to choose between defending Hong-bin or protecting Hak-yeon. His mouth felt as if it had a mind of its own, the words rolling uselessly off his tongue. “Not long. Only the past few sessions.”

“And what happened?”

“He began to ask questions beyond what he should be able to comprehend. He asked about me, and…” he trailed off, his lips trembling as he imagined Hak-yeon waiting for him at home, warm and kind as he believed whatever Sang-hyuk told him. He could feel Hak-yeon’s touch ghosting across his shoulders, able to hear the sweet sound of his voice whispering comforting words in his ear…and at the same time could feel Hong-bin’s hands caressing his own, comforting in his own, silent way. Forced to choose between the two of them; Sang-hyuk could not.

“And?” Joon-myeon pressed, snapping Sang-hyuk back to reality.

“…he started asking about why I was treating him like everyone else.” The half-truth; the only thing Sang-hyuk could bring himself to tell.

Joon-myeon stayed quiet for some time, his fingers running across the pictures. He eventually stopped over the two of them in bed. “Do you believe he is remembering the past?”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t even force a distracting laugh, swallowing heavily. “H-how could he? He was wiped completely, there’s nothing left to remember.” He stared at Hong-bin’s smile, his knees tucked under his chin in a perfect mirror of Sang-hyuk himself, and he felt a tear trickle down his cheek. “The most he did…was remember me. He doesn’t seem to remember anything about my father or Moon-hyuk. His questions revolve only around me.”

Joon-myeon’s stare was maddening, his eyes running over him in search of any brink in his armor, looking for the one detail that would reveal his lie. Sang-hyuk held himself the best he could, meeting his eye and praying his bravado would save him. It seemed to work; after an excruciating minute, Joon-myeon leaned back in his seat, his hands folded together in thought. Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped.

“That’s interesting. X39 has always been special—T52 never showed any kind of change, let alone to such a degree. But it’s also something to be careful of…are you sure he’s not remembering anything from the past?”

“I-I’m sure.”

Joon-myeon waited a long time before answering, sighing. “Then we’ll have to keep an eye on him.” When he saw Sang-hyuk begin to protest, he hurriedly cut him off. “Don’t worry, we won’t take him away from you. We’ll just have to increase the number of tests; I’ll see about putting a tracker on him when he’s charging.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Sang-hyuk knew there would be no changing his mind from that, instead just thankful all three of them would somehow come out unscathed. “That’s fine, sir.”

Joon-myeon finally smiled, laughing as he sat back up. “Good! Actually, I didn’t just call you in here to make you cry. We had noticed the change in X39 the moment it started happening—I only called you in here to see if what you told me matched the results.” Sang-hyuk felt the blood drain from his face, his hands falling lax in shock. Joon-myeon laughed again. “But don’t worry, you said exactly what we found, so you’re all good. Not to mention I have even more good news for you—seeing as you managed to actually make progress in this dying project, we decided to give the rest of the day for you to spend with your precious Hak-yeon!”

Sang-hyuk could barely register Joon-myeon’s exuberant grin, blinking in dumb shock. “W-what?”

“Didn’t Hak-yeon want to go out for dinner the other day or something? We’re giving you the whole day, so make sure to do something special.” Joon-myeon didn’t wait for him as he casually collected the pictures off the desk, filing them away with ease. He frowned when he saw Sang-hyuk hadn’t moved, scrunching his face mockingly. “This doesn’t come very often, so I suggest you take advantage of the opportunity.”

Sang-hyuk quickly shook his head, trying to understand. It was unheard of to receive even a night off, let alone a whole day; there was no way this was done out of sheer good will. They were planning something, either to him or Hong-bin; he knew it, yet despite being able to see through their plan, was unable to do anything but mumble out a pathetic ‘thank you’.

He really was pathetic.

 

Hak-yeon’s confused voice greeted Sang-hyuk when he opened the front door, though the greeting fell on deaf ears as he was still too numb from shock to hear. There had to be a reason Joon-myeon would suddenly send him home without even seeing Hong-bin, feeling his stomach turn at the thought that Joon-myeon had been aware of Hong-bin’s changes the entire time. Through sheer, brazen stupidity, he had jeopardized Hak-yeon’s life, as well as sentenced Hong-bin to a life as a mindless drone again. Both realizations pained him more than anything.

He was pulled out of his dark thoughts when he felt two warm hands cup his cheeks, blinking down to see Hak-yeon staring at him worriedly. Hak-yeon’s thumbs brushed Sang-hyuk’s eyelids, his touch gentle. “Sang-hyuk, what’s wrong?”

Sang-hyuk tried his best to smile, wanting everything to appear okay. He never wanted Hak-yeon to worry. “Nothing. I just got a day off and forgot, that’s all.” He ignored Hak-yeon’s confused grunt as he placed his hands over Hak-yeon’s, pulling them away and holding them together against his chest. “So, do you have anything you want to do today? We have the whole day; we can do anything you want.”

Hak-yeon wasn’t easily fooled, his hands turning to fists inside Sang-hyuk’s own. “What do you mean, ‘day off’? They’ve never done that before—what really happened? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Sang-hyuk laughed, shaking his head. “Of course not. I’m telling the truth; we have the whole day to ourselves.” Wanting to distract both Hak-yeon and himself, he guided Hak-yeon to his bedroom, lying down on the bed and tugging Hak-yeon on top of him. He let out a calming breath when he felt the familiar weight press down on his chest, smiling like an idiot when he saw Hak-yeon frowning down at him. Nothing mattered at that moment, intertwining their fingers and burrowing them in the blankets, rubbing their knuckles until the frown slowly melted from Hak-yeon’s face.

“Hyukkie…” Hak-yeon tried, his voice soft, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly cut him off.

“Can we please go out? It doesn’t matter where we go, I just…I just want to forget everything, even if for a little while. We can do that, right?”

The worry was back in Hak-yeon’s eyes as he shifted slightly, pulling one hand away to lovingly push Sang-hyuk’s hair from his face. “Baby…of course we can. We can go anywhere you want. But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. Please don’t keep everything to yourself.”

Sang-hyuk chuckled, grabbing Hak-yeon’s hand again and lightly knocking their foreheads together. “There’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine.”

 

He was surprised when he later found the both of them walking casually through the nearby park, the cool, dreary air keeping the area mostly to themselves. He glanced over to see Hak-yeon staring wordlessly ahead, his expression tight. Guilt tugged at the edges of Sang-hyuk’s heart, pained that he couldn’t make Hak-yeon happy even when given the opportunity.

Sang-hyuk silently reached over and took Hak-yeon’s hand, squeezing gently, and Hak-yeon blinked up at him in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Sang-hyuk asked softly.

Hak-yeon pursed his lips in thought, unable to look him in the eye as he turned his gaze to the ground, his steps slowing. Sang-hyuk slowed with him, keeping their pace steady and constant. “I just…you always hide everything from me. You always insist everything’s okay but…I know it’s not.” Sang-hyuk couldn’t bring himself to speak, his voice lost at the raw emotion leaking through Hak-yeon’s words.

Hak-yeon suddenly stopped walking, turning to face him and revealing his swollen eyes and flushed cheeks. Sang-hyuk reeled in shock. “I have to watch you stagger home every day, looking more beat down and tired each time, and there is nothing I can do. The only thing I _can_ do is comfort you until you stop crying, or hug you until fall asleep. Seeing that every day—why can’t you tell me what’s going on? And then you come home reeking of alcohol-”

“I told you a coworker and I just went out for drinks,” Sang-hyuk tried to reason, his voice tiny and small, and Hak-yeon wrenched his hand away.

“Drinks I can understand, but to the point your coworker was so inebriated he couldn’t walk, where you had to call a _taxi-”_

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking, I promise,” Sang-hyuk pleaded, desperate to get Hak-yeon to stop. Never in all the years they lived here had Hak-yeon hinted at what he felt about their situation, and to suddenly hear it now felt like a knife through his heart. Hak-yeon had followed him here willingly, and his presence had become one Sang-hyuk always expected to be there. He had never complained, never asked, never questioned; it stunned Sang-hyuk to realize he had come to take that for granted.

“I know, but…why has it come to this? You’ve become so withdrawn and sad all the time, and are gone so often it’s like seeing a stranger come home. I promised I would always be here for you, but it’s as if you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not, I would never-”

“Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon snapped, his voice trembling as tears Sang-hyuk had never seen before began to silently run down his cheeks, “don’t lie to me. I…I…” his voice cracked, having to take breaths to hold himself together, “I never wanted to complain. I made the choice to come with you. I made the choice to be chained to that house, to never be able to have a job or friends or a life outside of what you could give me. You didn’t force me, so I never wanted to complain. But…with the way things are now, it’s hard to pretend to be oblivious, to let you lie to me and pretend I can’t tell.”

Sang-hyuk’s body went on autopilot the moment he heard Hak-yeon sniffle, lurching forward and wrapping him in the biggest hug he could give. His hands were tight, his arms shielding themselves from the world as he allowed Hak-yeon to cry out everything he had built up over the years. It was a horrifying experience, listening to Hak-yeon cry. In all the years they had known each other, Hak-yeon had never cried. He was always the strong one, the one who fought against everything head on and let Sang-hyuk trail behind. Never had he let himself be so vulnerable, and to see the strong pillar that had been his support his entire life crumble before him shook Sang-hyuk to his core.

Hak-yeon melted against his chest, and Sang-hyuk let out a broken sob as he crushed Hak-yeon even harder, wishing he could express everything through his gestures alone. He had never imagined his good intentions had caused Hak-yeon so much pain, and the guilt was all-consuming. He would never be able to take any of that back.

“I’m sorry, Hak-yeon,” he finally managed to whisper, sniffling when Hak-yeon stiffened. “I didn’t mean to avoid you or make you feel like you have to pretend. I thought…I just didn’t want to make you worry about me. It’s my fault; I’m sorry.”

Hak-yeon let out a bitter laugh, his hand moving up to rub his back soothingly. Even when he was hurting, he still comforted him. Sang-hyuk hated himself for loving it. “But that’s my job, you dummy. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

Sang-hyuk laughed with him, his hold loosening enough to bury his face in Hak-yeon’s hair. The scent was so calming, feeling as if he was returning home. “I know.”

When they left the park, it was as if a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders, bright smiles on their faces as they walked down the streets with their hands locked together. He wasn’t even sure where they went or what they did, letting Hak-yeon guide him to all his favorite places and eating all the food Hak-yeon shoved in his mouth. It was a strange feeling, the freedom of not having someone watching his every move, to be able to relax and feel genuinely happy. For those few hours, he focused his attention entirely on Hak-yeon, doing whatever he could to make sure the smile stayed on Hak-yeon’s face.

But happiness was always fleeting, and life returned to slap him back to reality later that night, when the two of them were cuddled on the couch watching a movie. His arm was wrapped protectively around Hak-yeon’s shoulder, still shaken from seeing him cry, when his phone rang, ripping their attention away to where his phone buzzed from the kitchen table. Sang-hyuk hissed at it, knowing exactly who was calling and refusing to move. Not when Hak-yeon was in his arms; not when he was determined to prove that he could support Hak-yeon too.

Hak-yeon sent him a judging look when the phone finally stopped, but Sang-hyuk grinned childishly enough he only slapped his arm lightly, turning back to the movie. But when the phone rang again, Hak-yeon refused to let him ignore it, pushing him off the couch and demanding he answer. Sang-hyuk whined playfully at him as he begrudgingly went to the phone, trying to hide his overwhelming disappointment that the lab couldn’t even last a day without him, and were already forcing him to come back.

So naturally he was surprised when it wasn’t Won-shik or Joon-myeon on the other end, the distorted sound of a familiar voice waffling through. _“Hello?”_ the voice asked uncertainly.

Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped, his mind racing to try and figure out who had his number. Nobody had it. “Who is this?”

He could a faint mumbling on the other end before, _“Wait, is this Han Sang-hyuk? Hi! It’s me, Jae-hwan, do you remember?”_

Sang-hyuk inhaled sharply. “W-what? How did you get this number?” He could see Hak-yeon get up out of the corner of his eye, silently moving over to place a hand on his arm, his brow furrowed in worry. Sang-hyuk took his hand to calm him, now able to hear the heavy beats of the loud club music in the background, Jae-hwan vaguely shouting something that had Sang-hyuk panicking. How did Jae-hwan get his number? He never gave it to him—the most he did was tell him his name, which he already regretted.

_“What? Ah, I’m not a creep or anything! I’m just calling cause your friend here is passed out and your number is the only one on his phone. Would you be able to come and take him home? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to drink anymore.”_

“My friend…?” he mumbled, his eyes widening when he heard Sung-jae’s slurred murmuring through the speaker. Had Sung-jae gone back to drink? He had been so drunk last night; how could he have gone back again without even a day to rest? He could only imagine what it must be like over there, where Jae-hwan’s only option was to call him. He grimaced, looking down at Hak-yeon to see him frowning concernedly.

“You should go,” Hak-yeon mouthed, nudging him gently.

Sang-hyuk quickly put Jae-hwan on hold, shaking his head sadly at Hak-yeon. The sound of the movie played mutedly in the background. “But…today is supposed to be our day…”

Hak-yeon smiled, ruffling his hair fondly. “I know, but your friend needs you. We can always watch a movie next time.” Not that there would be a next time, though Sang-hyuk would never say that. “And anyway, I’m sure your friend’s family is worried about him. I know I would be so thankful if someone helped you if you needed it.”

Sang-hyuk sighed, giving Hak-yeon a squeezing hug before running out the door.

It wasn’t long before he burst through the doors of the club, breathless as his eyes immediately locked on Jae-hwan waiting by a barely conscious Sung-jae, the latter sprawled out over the counter. He winced as he quickly pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring Jae-hwan’s cheery greeting to check if Sung-jae was okay. Sung-jae only mumbled incoherently at his attempts, swatting back uselessly, and Jae-hwan coughed awkwardly.

“He’s had quite a bit to drink. He usually doesn’t drink anything too heavy, but today he seemed really upset.”

Sang-hyuk frowned, looking at Jae-hwan confusedly. “Usually?”

Jae-hwan looked just as confused, his voice hesitant as he slowly muttered, “He’s been a regular for the past few months. You were actually the first person I saw him come with; he usually comes alone.”

Sang-hyuk looked down sadly to see Sung-jae with his face buried in his arms, groaning softly as his body shivered. “…I thought this place was new.”

“…no. We’ve been open for at least a year, if you want to call that new.”

Sang-hyuk silently placed a hand on Sung-jae’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Sung-jae…he was the only real friend he had at work, the only person he trusted with his deepest feelings; and he hadn’t known. He had been fooled just like the rest of the world, never knowing how much pain Sung-jae was really in when only met with bright smiles and easy jokes. How long had Sung-jae felt like this, to resort to running to local bars and clubs to drink his sorrows away? He fell sadly onto the barstool next to him, guilty, and Jae-hwan leaned in concernedly.

“Hey, you okay?” When Sang-hyuk responded with only a shake of the head, he bit his lip. “I’m sorry if this was a surprise; I only called because he needed someone to take him home. I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret or anything.”

“No, you’re fine.” Sang-hyuk ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long groan. Jae-hwan leveled him with a knowing glance, his gelled hair loosening under the heavy heat of the overhead lights, drooping into his eyes and giving his face a youthful look. Looking now, the man didn’t appear much older than Sang-hyuk himself, and he wondered what such a young person was doing as a bartender in a club. Jae-hwan seemed to have some concern over his customers, going so far as to call friends and family, and Sang-hyuk felt a small sense of understanding at such useless concern.

“I wouldn’t really ask since you’re here to take him home, but would you like a drink? You look like you need one.” When Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to decline, he added quickly, “Nothing heavy, just something to help take your mind off things.”

Sang-hyuk snorted, shaking his head. “There’s nothing you can do to take my mind off things. But thanks for asking.”

Jae-hwan didn’t say anything for a while, waving off a curious coworker to say carefully, “You know, Sung-jae talks about you.” Sang-hyuk looked up at him in surprise, and Jae-hwan laughed awkwardly. “He never said your name or anything, but he mentioned his best friend all the time. When he brought you in, that’s when I found out it was you.” Sung-jae took that moment to blearily lift his head, his hand patting the counter for his glass, and Jae-hwan swiftly took it away. Sung-jae didn’t even notice, laying his head back down. Sang-hyuk quietly put his hand back on Sung-jae’s shoulder, sighing. “I don’t know what you guys are doing, but Sung-jae would talk about how much his friend carried by himself. He never gave any details, don’t worry, it’s just that now that I’ve seen you, I can see it too.”

Sang-hyuk glowered, accidentally ripping Sung-jae off the barstool harder than he meant to. “I don’t need your pity.”

Jae-hwan winced. “Sympathy and pity are not the same thing.” He immediately moved to help when Sang-hyuk swung Sung-jae’s arm around his shoulder, though this time Sang-hyuk was prepared.

“Don’t.”

Jae-hwan actually looked pained as he stayed back, and Sang-hyuk hated that he felt bad. “I’m sorry if I came off as anything strange,” he tried, his fingers tapping the countertop. “I just wanted to get to know you after hearing so much about you from Sung-jae, that’s all. But if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me. Though I can be more than just a good listener.” His attempt at a joke fell flat when Sang-hyuk refused to acknowledge it, turning to leave and hesitating just enough to give a hurt Jae-hwan a simple,

“I’ll think about it.”  


	13. Untouchable

Sang-hyuk and Sung-jae stood together as they stared through a dark window that did nothing more than let them look into an empty room, their reflections shining from the dull light above them. They were both somber, the mood subdued by the reason they were there, and the longer they waited the heavier the atmosphere became. Sang-hyuk stole a glance to his friend to see Sung-jae staring resolutely at the window, waiting, and he felt a part of himself break at the sight.

He had always been jealous of how Sung-jae managed to smile even when staring at the motionless bodies he helped kill, how he was able to stay sane even when watching people sign their lives away. He had made it seem so effortless, and Sang-hyuk had always thought himself incapable. But to know that it was never like that, that everything was forced and Sung-jae was in just as much pain as himself—Sang-hyuk hated it.

His eyes flickered back over when Sung-jae let out a long sigh, his body shuddering and exuding the faint scent of alcohol. He could see Sung-jae’s head drop from his reflection.

“Thank you, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk stuffed his hands in his pockets, unable to even attempt to smile. “How long?”

“…it started a few months ago. I…Hyun-sik invited me out. Just to let off some steam. I didn’t drink that much at first, but it felt good. I started to go back every once in a while, and it just kinda…spiraled out of control.” He looked up pleadingly, the sight so pathetic it was as if staring into a mirror. “I promise I don’t drink like that all the time. I’m sorry I lied to you, and I’m sorry you had to see it; I’ll let Jae-hwan know not to call you anymore-”

“Sung-jae…” Sung-jae snapped his mouth shut, his eyes full of fear and hesitance, and Sang-hyuk felt so sad seeing his friend look at him that way. “…just…next time, invite me. Don’t drink like that by yourself.”

It took Sung-jae a few seconds to realize what he said, his eyes watering gratefully as he moved to pull him into a hug, when the lights in the other room flashed awake, stopping them both cold. Any uncertainty on Sung-jae’s face was gone as he snapped his full attention back to the room, his eyes focused as they waited for the lone door to open. It was a typical cyborg accommodation room, the bed and desk placement the exact same as Hong-bin and T52’s. He had seen this room so many times, but it was an entirely new experience for Sung-jae, the latter’s eyes running over everything, his movements almost desperate.

They both stiffened when the door slid open, the darkness from the outer hallway slipping into the entirely white room as Won-shik stepped inside, a young girl standing by his side. Her eyes were glassy, dazed and confused, as she stared ahead, unaware of Won-shik’s hand on her shoulder or the sound of the door closing behind her.

She was so tiny, smaller than Sang-hyuk remembered. Her face was young, baby fat that would never fade away still clinging to her cheeks. Her dark hair was long and stringy, matted over her face and shoulders and helping to cover her thinly clothed body. While it was a strange thought to have, Sang-hyuk was thankful that the higher-ups allowed her to be clothed, even a little. Save whatever dignity she had left.

The room was soundproofed, neither of them able to hear Won-shik as he guided her to the bed, easily hefting her up and setting her down in the same position Hong-bin was trained to be. While he couldn’t hear, Sang-hyuk knew exactly what he was saying, having begrudgingly given the same speech to both T52 and Hong-bin. Asking who she was, what she was, what she remembered; it was a requirement no one liked doing, but one that was needed. Any lingering memories had to be destroyed immediately, the damage if left unchecked dangerous.

At least that was what he was told, though every second he thought of Hong-bin and the warm smiles he would give when alone tested that theory.

As he watched that girl stare at Won-shik with the gaze of someone who knew nothing of the world except for what was before her eyes, he wondered how dangerous she would be if they left her memories intact. If they left her _human._

Sang-hyuk frowned when he heard the faint sound of crying, turning in surprise to see Sung-jae’s chest heaving silently, tears running down his cheeks. Sang-hyuk knew what Sung-jae was feeling, had felt the same so many times, but found himself unable to speak, the words he wanted to say remaining a garbled mess on the tip of his tongue.

When Sung-jae stopped mid-cry at the sight of Won-shik beginning the daily tests, Sang-hyuk finally managed, “You okay?”

Sung-jae nodded, never taking his eyes away from her. “Y-yeah…yeah. I just…she’s alive, you know? I know she’s not _really_ alive, but…she’s… she lived. I didn’t kill her.”

“She is,” Sang-hyuk mumbled back, wincing when he saw the rough way Won-shik twisted her body around, wishing he could tell Won-shik to be a little gentler. Won-shik was always so serious with the cyborgs; he meant well but just didn’t know what to do. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

Sung-jae tentatively placed his hands on the glass, his eyes glistening. “I can’t look away, Hyuk. Every time I look at her, I just want to take her away and keep her safe. She shouldn’t be here. She’s only here because her mother went crazy—she didn’t do anything wrong. She deserves better.”

Sang-hyuk grimaced at the words Sung-jae whispered, having heard them from his own mouth so many times. “It’s not good to think that way.  You can’t…you can’t care about those things. They’re not human anymore.” He watched as Sung-jae’s horrified gaze faded to slow understanding, knowing he was only repeating the words they were told on a daily basis. “You shouldn’t feel so much. Feeling hurts. To help her, you have to forget all that.”

“Is this what you feel when you work with X39?” Sung-jae asked after a long silence, his words cutting through Sang-hyuk like a knife. “I always wondered how you could be so sad and angry all the time when all you have to do is sit there with the borgs and talk to them. You don’t have to do any of the experiments, you don’t have to kill anyone; the most you do is write down the problems and have someone else take care of them. How could you have any problems? But…” he leaned against the window, his forehead pressed against the glass and his eyes focused only on the girl, “how could you not, when you stare at these things that used to be human?”

Sang-hyuk refused to look at Sung-jae as he stepped forward, following suit and softly resting his forehead against the glass. It was cold, freezing even, and it felt wonderful. “It’s not easy. I’m supposed to teach them how to be human again while making sure their previous memories never come back, and if anything deviates from that specific formula I’m supposed to wipe them all over again. I’m supposed to make them feel real…to feel loved, and yet I’m not supposed to feel anything for them.

“They’re cyborgs. They’re not human. They don’t feel, they don’t love, they don’t even dream. I’m supposed to remember that, but when they smile or tell me what they think, I just can’t…I can’t ignore it.”

Sung-jae’s eyes flitted over to him, his brow wrinkling in slight confusion. “Cyborgs don’t smile.”

Sang-hyuk snorted mockingly, meeting his eye. “Really, now? Look at your girl over there, look real hard, and tell me they don’t. She may not show anything now, but after weeks, months, _years_ , how can you expect her to not show anything, to not learn how to smile to show her gratefulness, to not apologize to show her regret? We don’t teach emotions, but cyborgs are not incapable of learning. They watch us, learn from us, and grow just like you and I. X39 can smile, T52 can smile…even she can smile.”

Sung-jae pursed his lips, the retort drilled into them from day one on the tip of his tongue, only to sadly look back over to the girl when he couldn’t speak. They watched as Won-shik finished checking her over, his mouth silently moving as he pulled a comb out of the desk drawer. They both looked so lost, Won-shik looking like he was about to implode every time he ran his fingers through her hair, that Sang-hyuk wanted to laugh. Instead, he kept his voice in check as he asked softly,

“The sponsors are coming next week; did you know that?”

Sung-jae’s eyes never looked away, his body frozen to the window. “They coming to see X39?”

“Yeah…him and your girl.”

Sung-jae’s brow furrowed, his face so expressive that Sang-hyuk could see everything he was feeling even as he tried his best to hide it. “It hurts, Hyuk. They always died, so I never thought much about what’d happen if they lived. To know that I gave her the future of always being on display, for others to watch and see how long she can survive…it hurts.”

“You didn’t do that to her. You were only following orders.”

“But I’m the one all the same. No one forced my hand as I did it. I willingly did it to her—my reasons don’t matter in the long run as long as that girl is sitting there because of me.” Sung-jae’s cheeks glistened in the light, his eyes swollen as he gave up trying to dry them, his sleeves soaked. “I did this to her, and yet I’m not allowed to see her. I’m supposed to ignore everything as I hand her off to you and let you warp her mind to whatever the hell they want…it hurts, Hyukkie. Byullie doesn’t deserve that.”

Sang-hyuk pulled away from the glass to level his friend with a heavy stare, catching on immediately to the seriousness of the situation. “Byullie?”

Sung-jae winced, purposefully looking away to avoid his eye. “They’re going to call her Y09.” He paused briefly, taking a long, shuddering breath. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel terrible calling her something so degrading.”

Sang-hyuk shook his head, no longer holding his tongue as a twisting panic began to grow at the bottom of his stomach. “You can’t. If anyone heard you say that, if _she_ ever caught on and started saying it-”

“You know I would never be able to actually meet her, let alone say a nickname to her. I just—I can’t help it. I was the one that gave her Test 1, the one who fed her when she was drugged, the one she saw first when she woke up. After all that, I can’t just give her a serial number and call it good. I _can’t._ ”

“But-”

“I looked at her file. Her name…I-I want…” Sung-jae stepped back to wipe his eyes again and turn away, unable to watch any longer. Sang-hyuk attempted to help him, his hand brushing his shoulder, and Sung-jae weakly pushed him away. “I just…I want to make her seem human again, to me. Is that bad?” His last question was whispered so quietly it was gone before it ever left his lips, Sang-hyuk only able to understand from the depths of his heart.

He ignored Sung-jae’s protests as he pulled him into a soft hug, for the first time able to comfort someone in the way he always wished to be. “It’s a pretty name.”

\--

They weren’t allowed to stay much longer before they were forced to leave, Sung-jae having been called back downstairs. Sang-hyuk wished he had made sure he was really okay before letting him go, but his mind was honestly gone the moment they stepped outside, Hong-bin the only one on his thoughts. Neither Won-shik nor Joon-myeon had called him when he came in that morning, nobody stopping him. Which was fine for him—he was not about to give anyone the chance to keep him away again.

While he had immensely enjoyed the opportunity to spend the day with Hak-yeon, he couldn’t help the latent anxiety that lingered at the back of his mind. Even when Hak-yeon’s warm hands had held his, his body pressed against his own, he couldn’t stop thinking of Hong-bin. No matter how much Joon-myeon tried to dress up the gesture as goodwill, he knew they had done something to him. It was no secret how attached Sang-hyuk was to Hong-bin, and it was well-known how badly he reacted when any harm came to him.

Nothing appeared out of place as he hurried to Hong-bin’s room, everything where it should be; he swung the door open and his eyes immediately locked on Hong-bin, body shut down and the charger plugged into his chest. Sang-hyuk rushed over and cupped his hands over the sleeping cyborg’s cheeks, his fingers practiced as they ran over his face. The skin was smooth and real like always, his eyes firmly shut as they were unaware to react to his prodding touch. His hands swept through his hair and slid down to his shoulders—and that was where he stopped.

Sang-hyuk ripped his hands away as if burned, his eyes wide and his heart still as his mind blanked on how he was supposed to react. That—that wasn’t—that wasn’t right; no, that was _wrong._ It wasn’t—his skin wasn’t— _no._

His chest was heaving as his body tried to remember how to breathe, his hands warily reaching out to brush Hong-bin’s shoulder, a garbled cry tumbling from his lips at the touch.

This wasn’t Hong-bin.

It couldn’t be.

Not when there was real skin where a sticky, synthetic one should have been.

Sang-hyuk fell to his knees as his hands grabbed wherever they could, scrapping against Hong-bin’s body—his chest, his arms, his legs, his hands, his fingers—and freely sobbed when he felt nothing but real skin. Was this what they had done? They replaced his skin? But how—how had they done it so perfectly? In the six years he worked here, they had suited Hong-bin with more skin types than he could count, each time feeling as disgustingly fake as the last, and he had watched as each had a reaction as worse as the next. It was always so wrong and Hong-bin always so oblivious, but this—this was so different. 

This was _real._

“Hong-bin,” Sang-hyuk whimpered softly as he climbed back onto his chair, furiously wiping his eyes and doing his best to look presentable. Hong-bin would only worry if he saw him crying.

Giving himself time to calm down, he grabbed Hong-bin’s file off the desk, flipping through the pages to find the evidence printed plain as day. Descriptions that he had no way of ever understanding detailed the work they did, the receptors lining Hong-bin’s metal body replaced and his brain scrambled to match.

Sang-hyuk swallowed heavily.

While it wasn’t new that they would do something so drastic without telling him, he hadn’t known they’d been so close to finishing a new skin set, let alone one that seemed so real. He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel betrayed, leaning forward and letting his fingers find their way to Hong-bin’s hand, intertwining their fingers and feeling the artificial warmth that pumped underneath. It was all so strange, yet enthralling.

Already knowing what was expected of him, Sang-hyuk tossed the file aside as he turned his attention back to Hong-bin’s sleeping face, squeezing the metal fingers tenderly. He had no real expectations; even with skin that appeared human, it was an impossible endeavor to create feeling in nerves that had been thoroughly severed, and these tests did nothing more than create hope where there shouldn’t be.

And yet, with everything that was changing around him, for once, Sang-hyuk wanted to have hope.

He took one last second to let out a heavy breath before taking the charger out, his heart beating furiously in his chest as Hong-bin’s eyes fluttered open. He watched as the temporary confusion changed to recognition at the sight of Sang-hyuk, his breath catching in his throat at the warm smile Hong-bin gave him. It was still so new to see such an expression on Hong-bin’s once empty face, though it was one that he was more than willing to get used to.

“Hello, Hong-bin,” Sang-hyuk said softly, immediately holding his hands out in an inviting gesture, giving Hong-bin the opportunity to understand on his own. He matched Hong-bin’s smile with surprisingly simple ease, feeling any lingering anxiety melt away. It been such a long time since Hong-bin had made Sang-hyuk feel so calm, so safe, and he barely had any idea how to handle it. “How are you? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here, you know how they don’t like me being here on test days.”

Hong-bin knew exactly what he was doing, moving his hands to take Sang-hyuk’s, only for a surprised, horrified shout to escape his lips as he wrenched them back.

Sang-hyuk felt his heart jump at the reaction, the hope he would have otherwise squashed growing frantically. “Hong-bin? What’s wrong? What happened?” There had been times when skin types had caused such overstimulation that Hong-bin’s body immediately crashed, one once burning the material away until the metal underneath shone through. Each time had started from a simple touch such as this one, though none of them had left him more or less aware, shocked and confused but still conscious. “Hong-bin?”

Sang-hyuk tried to touch Hong-bin’s exposed knee, his clothes taken and trashed, and Hong-bin jumped again, shouting even louder. Everything about this time was different, and Sang-hyuk ran a critical eye over Hong-bin’s body, taking note of every detail. Hong-bin’s face was drawn, his shoulders hunched as he instinctively curled in on himself, and it gave every impression that his body was actually taking in stimuli. Understanding the severity of the situation, Sang-hyuk gently placed his hands on the bed, making sure Hong-bin saw him before speaking.

“Hong-bin,” he said calmly, firmly, “I need you to listen to me. They put a new skin type on you, and I need to know everything. Only then can I help you, okay?” Hong-bin refused to move as his eyes flashed up to Sang-hyuk’s face, a garbled noise of agreement the only way Sang-hyuk could tell he understood. “Okay. I need you to tell me what’s wrong. What feels different?”

“My body.”

“Okay. What part of your body? Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll do what I can to fix it.”

“The replacements. All of the artificial parts—I can feel. I can feel and I do not know what to do.”

It took Sang-hyuk a long moment to fully realize what Hong-bin said, staring blankly at Hong-bin’s naked body and trying to understand. There was no way—it couldn’t be. There was no way Hong-bin was actually feeling; that was impossible. Nerve replacements had been under development for over fifteen years; there was no way it could actually have been done. But as he stared at Hong-bin, curled in a ball and staring pleadingly at him for help, he couldn’t help but think…had it?

Could Hong-bin really…could he really?

“Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin whimpered, the sound broken and scared, and Sang-hyuk leapt into action.

“Okay. Here, I’m going to take your hand. Just your hand—okay? If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll let go immediately, okay? Alright, watch me, see my hand? Focus on my hand…” His voice trailed off as both of their attention was wrested by Sang-hyuk’s hand, their eyes locked as his fingers gingerly brushed against Hong-bin’s. Hong-bin whimpered, a soft whine, and Sang-hyuk stopped.

“No, do not stop,” Hong-bin said quietly, his hand twitching after Sang-hyuk. “Please.”

“Okay. Just tell me if anything hurts. Here I go again…”

Again Sang-hyuk skimmed over Hong-bin’s hand, and despite the moan from the latter did not pull away. He moved slowly, his eyes never looking away from Hong-bin’s face, as his fingers gently slipped under Hong-bin’s palm, his thumb wrapping around his knuckles in warm support. “I’m here for you, Hong-bin,” he murmured, his voice ringing in his ears, “I will never hurt you. Remember, I will never hurt you…”

He used as little effort as possible to raise Hong-bin’s hand up, wincing at Hong-bin’s pained cry and doing his very best to calm him. “Tell me, Hong-binnie…what do you feel?” He very gradually, very softly, began to run his thumb over each and every knuckle, pausing between each to give Hong-bin time to adjust. “Like this…what do you feel?”

“I cannot tell.” Hong-bin’s voice was flustered, a sound that would match his flushed face if he were human. “It is a texture I cannot describe. I can tell it is your hand that I am feeling, though I do not know what it is supposed to feel like.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good. You’re doing wonderful.” He gave Hong-bin a soft smile, one that Hong-bin drank in like a lifeline. “Now, I’m going to continue to your arm. If it ever gets too much, let me know.” Neither made another noise as they watched Sang-hyuk’s hand slide down to Hong-bin’s wrist, running over the cold skin up to his elbow, Hong-bin’s body only shuddering once when he cupped over his shoulder.

Sang-hyuk could barely contain his excitement as the dawning realization that Hong-bin was _feeling_ began to finally take place in his mind. He waited until Hong-bin was ready before splaying his hands over Hong-bin’s firm chest, grasping at his waist and thighs in overwhelming joy that Hong-bin could _feel_ every second of this. He could hear Hong-bin’s hurried reassurances to continue as he grabbed his hand again, tugging at each finger and laughing with each moan.

Hong-bin could _feel._

He could really _feel._

After years of describing touch to a being that had no way of understanding or any future of learning, it was truly exhilarating to realize he finally could.

But everything came to a grinding halt when Sang-hyuk tried testing Hong-bin’s right hand, only for Hong-bin to immediately yank it away. Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise to see Hong-bin refusing to look him in the eye, his gaze locked on the floor, and he understood. Hong-bin’s right arm, the only part of him left untouched, still could not feel.

Unless replaced, it never would.

“Hong-bin-”

“Sang-hyuk.” Sang-hyuk snapped his mouth shut at Hong-bin’s strained voice, wincing when he saw how wrecked Hong-bin was, his eyes dilated and his whole body shaking. He wanted to apologize but let the words die away when Hong-bin leveled him with a heavy glare. “Do not move.” He frowned but listened all the same, staying absolutely still as Hong-bin very slowly unraveled himself, tentatively placing his feet back on the floor and straightening his back to sit tall again. Everything Hong-bin did was slow, every touch followed by a subconscious flinch. Sang-hyuk wanted to ask what he was doing when Hong-bin suddenly reached out and placed his fingers over Sang-hyuk’s lips.

“Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin whispered, his fingers clumsy as they stumbled up to Sang-hyuk’s nose and eyes, poking and prodding as if discovering the world for the first time. With each touch, with each brush, the confusion and worry faded away from Hong-bin’s face, a smile that was completely genuine spreading over his lips as he palmed Sang-hyuk’s cheek. “Sang-hyuk…this is what you feel like. This is what you are.”

His hand fisted a handful of Sang-hyuk’s hair, tugging and scraping, sweeping it into Sang-hyuk’s eyes before pushing it away, so full of a curiosity that Sang-hyuk had long since believed to have been erased. “While I do not know how to describe what I am feeling, I know you. There is nothing in the world that will feel as you do. When I feel this,” his hand moved back down to Sang-hyuk’s lips, his nail catching the bottom lip, “I will know that it is you.”

“Hong-bin…”

“It is wonderful.”

“ _You_ are wonderful.”

 

With the force of someone who no longer understood his own strength, Hong-bin wrenched Sang-hyuk up onto his bed, his grip loosening and tightening around his wrist with each wave of stimuli rushing through him. Sang-hyuk let Hong-bin do whatever he wanted, helping him settle into the blankets before staying completely still, a smile lingering on his lips as Hong-bin began to trail his fingers over every inch of him. There was a childlike wonder in Hong-bin’s eyes as each touch brought them closer, his movements experimental as he brushed their legs together, his voice low as he leaned forward to press their shoulders flush against one other.

Sang-hyuk had so many things he wanted to say then, to ask and guide Hong-bin as he learned, but he stayed silent. This was the first time since being in the lab that Hong-bin took the initiative to learn on his own, and Sang-hyuk would do anything to encourage that.

Sang-hyuk let out a small gasp when Hong-bin suddenly leaned forward enough he fell back onto the bed, Hong-bin not far behind him. He couldn’t help but grunt when Hong-bin’s full weight was pressed on top of him, the material used to make up the majority of his body anything but light. But he fought to keep a smile on his face, not wanting to stop Hong-bin from discovering, and instead tentatively placed his hands over Hong-bin’s soft waist. Hong-bin gasped but did nothing to stop him, shifting until his face was only inches away from Sang-hyuk’s, his eyes dilated as they both traced their hands over each other.

Hong-bin was so soft, so lithe, it would be nearly impossible to believe he was a machine if not for the years that had convinced Sang-hyuk otherwise.

Hong-bin’s hand cupped Sang-hyuk’s cheek, the hundredth time he’d done so, and Sang-hyuk finally broke the silence. “How are you doing?” His words were barely above a whisper, and yet Hong-bin reacted to them as if they reverberated off the walls.

“I am fine,” he responded, his fingers smoothing over Sang-hyuk’s ear. “Your touch…it is becoming manageable. I can feel your touch and I know it is you.” He slowly lowered himself so his chin rested against the dip in Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, every part of his body touching Sang-hyuk in some way. “Your body, your human body, I know it is you.” 

“Take your time,” he promised, pulling Hong-bin’s hand away and holding it tenderly. “I’ll always be here for you, and I’ll help you with anything you need.” He smiled genuinely when Hong-bin lifted his head up to stare at him, squeezing gently, and Hong-bin’s eyes flitted across his face in response. “Remember, I’ll never hurt you, and I won’t let anyone ever touch you. You’re safe.” He wished he could truly mean his words, but the assumed safety they brought alone was enough for now. Hong-bin didn’t seem to realize the bravado behind them, smiling widely enough to show his teeth as he kissed Sang-hyuk’s forehead.

At Sang-hyuk’s surprise, he only chuckled, so human in his response it left Sang-hyuk’s brain a flurried mess. “I remember more than you can believe, and I will return your strength for you.”

\--

It was only when Hong-bin had to be plugged back in that Sang-hyuk finally left the room, reality crushing him the moment he closed the door behind him. While they were now aware, he knew there would be even more questions about Hong-bin’s surprisingly intimate reaction, not to mention questions in general about the actually working skin type. With each session that passed since Hong-bin revealing his returning memory, Sang-hyuk’s awareness to the numerous cameras stationed in the room began to fade away, the importance of the files he had to update forgotten. It was a dangerous game he was beginning to play, and he had to hurry and remind himself before it was too late.

But all that was pushed to the back of his mind the moment he turned to see the intern assigned to T52, Chan-sik, sitting by the door, the younger man jumping to his feet at the sight of him.

“Han Sang-hyuk, sir!” he said hurriedly, his whole body fidgeting with unbridled energy, and Sang-hyuk wondered idly how long he had been sitting there.

“Chan-sik,” he greeted slowly, looking him over and trying to figure out what he was doing here. T52 and Hong-bin’s rooms were kept on opposite ends of the lab, and he and Chan-sik hadn’t spoken since his impromptu session with T52. Sang-hyuk purposefully kept as far away from the interns as possible, the majority of them never making it to full-time workers, and neither he nor Chan-sik ever had a reason to stay in touch. For him to be outside Hong-bin’s room, _waiting_ for him, meant something that Sang-hyuk could not even fathom. “What are you doing here?”

Chan-sik seemed embarrassed by his question, dipping his head as his hands tightened around the clipboard clutched against his chest. “I—I’m sorry for bothering you, but…you were the only person I could think of asking.”

Sang-hyuk’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Don’t you work with Chan-yeol? What do you need me for?”

Chan-sik stumbled over his words as he tried to find the best way to word his question, the awkwardness he remembered in the man exuding off him in waves. “Yes, but—but Professor Park doesn’t know what to do and told me to fix it, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know who else to ask, and everyone just keeps telling me they don’t know. You’re the only person I could think of that would help me.”

Sang-hyuk felt his cheeks flushed at the unintended compliment, so unused to the sound he couldn’t help but stutter uncomfortably. “A-ah, sure. What do you need?”

“T52 was fitted with a new skin type, but it’s not reacting well to it.” Sang-hyuk stiffened, images of Hong-bin moaning over him, running his fingers over Sang-hyuk’s lips flashing through his mind. He shouldn’t be surprised; if Hong-bin was given the new skin, it would make sense they would do the same to T52. Though he was surprised to hear that T52 hadn’t reacted well. The two cyborgs rarely had the same reaction to tests, their bodies having completely different immunities—but the skin was different, an artificial attachment that had less chance of their body rejecting.

“It started screaming when it realized,” Chan-sik continued, not noticing Sang-hyuk’s alarm. “It crawled back to the wall and wouldn’t let me touch it. I called Professor Park and he came, though T52 wouldn’t let him touch it either. Professor Park got really mad and tried to force it to do the skin tests, but T52 wouldn’t, and insisted that you come.”

Sang-hyuk blinked dumbly, unsure what to think. “What?”

“You have to come!” Chan-sik cried frantically, a hint of panic in his voice. “You’re the only person T52 ever remembers; its mentioned your name in every session since you came. Professor Park doesn’t want you to come, but I’m sure if you did T52 would let you touch it.” When Sang-hyuk stayed silent, he added quietly, “Professor Park said I can’t go home unless I can finish the tests…so please, can you help me?”

Sang-hyuk sighed, unable to deny the plea when he had heard the ultimatum he had heard himself so many times before. “Alright. Let’s go together.”

 

Chan-yeol was waiting outside T52’s room when they arrived, his expression volatile, though it darkened considerably at the sight of Sang-hyuk trailing behind Chan-sik. Chan-yeol didn’t hate Sang-hyuk specifically, most of the animosity coming from T52 openly preferring Sang-hyuk over him, a situation that could be a problem if T52’s preference caused a lack in Chan-yeol’s results. The threat of death hung over everyone equally, and it was a reminder that kept nearly everyone an arm’s length away. Chan-yeol’s hard eyes refused to look at Chan-sik as he stepped forward, one hand sliding over T52’s doorknob.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard about T52. I came to check him out.”

Chan-yeol sent a scathing look to Chan-sik before glaring at Sang-hyuk again, his voice grating. “We don’t need you. You know better than anyone how T52 is—we just have to wait until its body resets enough to manage the stimuli. You can go.”

“I have already finished everything with X39.” Sang-hyuk kept his face and voice calm as he spoke, unwilling to let himself be rattled by the pathetic mixture of self-perseverance and envy. He could see Chan-sik’s eyes sparkle, something he tried his best to ignore, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have to do the tests if you don’t want me to, but I can go in and at least check him over. The last thing we need is for him to damage himself. I can calm him down and then hand him over to you—unless you want to go to Joon-myeon and explain why you can’t work.”

He could see fear flash in Chan-yeol’s eyes as his hand subconsciously fell away, begrudgingly taking a step back. “I…fine. Just calm him down. I have to be the one to do the tests. And Chan-sik,” Chan-sik jumped at the harsh tone, covering half his face with his clipboard, “I want you to stay back and watch. Don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, sir,” Chan-sik squeaked.

Sang-hyuk refrained from saying anything as he went and opened the door, only to be immediately greeted with a pillow slamming into his face, followed by unintelligible screaming. Chan-yeol cursed as he pushed Chan-sik back, annoyed, but Sang-hyuk held his ground, standing firmly with his hand still on the doorknob.

T52 was a sad mess, naked and afraid as he huddled against the wall, the blankets of his bed a flurried mess around him. His face was buried in his knees and his arms were wrapped protectively around himself, a reaction that was as human as it was pathetic, and it broke Sang-hyuk’s heart. T52 was an inherently sweet thing, so smiley and happy when caught in one of his better moods, and to see him so confused and frightened made him want to cry.

T52’s eyes widened when he saw Sang-hyuk, the relief palpable on his face as he lifted his hand to greet him, only to jump and instinctively curl in on himself. He whined loudly, his eyes pleading, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly ran over to sit in the chair, shushing him sweetly.

“Hey, hey, T52, it’s okay. I’m here.” He reached out to comfort him only to stop last second, not wanting to scare him anymore than he already was. “Hey, can you at least look at me? Please?” T52’s body shook in response, so overwhelmed he could barely register Sang-hyuk’s voice. But he finally looked up, and Sang-hyuk smiled warmly. “There, just like that. How are you? I heard you wanted to see me.”

A hint of a smile passed over T52’s face before a shift from his foot sent another wave of shivers up his body, and he flinched back. “I do not want them to touch me,” His eyes glanced back at Chan-yeol and Chan-sik before turning back to Sang-hyuk. “I only want you.”

“Okay. I’m here now. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“I can feel.”

“Okay. I can help you. I’m going to move very slowly, and if anything hurts or is too much, just tell me and I’ll stop. Okay? Here, I’m starting now. I’m going to touch your hand…” His voice trailed off as he reached out to take T52’s hand, working with the same patience and speed as he did Hong-bin, though he was shocked when T52 didn’t scream or jump when Sang-hyuk touched him, instead smiling in relief. “T52?”

“You feel nice,” was all T52 said before adjusting in his seat, turning to face him with none of the previous distress on his face. He reached out and wrapped both hands around Sang-hyuk’s, smiling brightly. “My body does not overstimulate when I touch you. Your touch is calming, and I wanted you to be the first one I touched.” The entire room was silent as T52 continued, his explorative hands leading his body to gradually move closer, his legs beginning to crawl into Sang-hyuk’s lap, when he suddenly jolted.

Sang-hyuk could hear Chan-sik gasp softly as they watched T52 restart, Sang-hyuk having to quickly hold onto his body before it collapsed onto the bed. None of them knew how to respond, not having expected T52 to happily try climbing into Sang-hyuk’s lap. It was a shock to say the least, though nothing mattered until they saw what happened once he restarted. Anything could happen, and they had to be ready when it did.

T52’s eyes were the first to come to, looking around frantically when he discovered himself half-draped over Sang-hyuk. His hands jerked under Sang-hyuk’s touch, no doubt realizing the new skin, and a low, heated whine that had all their faces flushing escaped his lips. “Sang-hyuk,” T52 moaned, shaking his head. “What…? My skin; it can feel. Did you…did you know?”

“I did,” Sang-hyuk said softly, running his thumb over T52’s fingers. “And I’m here to help you. Is this too much for you?”

It took a couple seconds before a wide smile spread over T52’s face, dimples that rarely showed brightening his cheeks. “No. No, keep doing it. It feels good. It feels so, so good. Thank you, Sang-hyuk.” Without even realizing it had been a previous version of himself that had done it, T52 finished climbing onto Sang-hyuk’s lap, wrapping his arms around Sang-hyuk’s shoulders and falling forward so their chests were pressed against each other. Sang-hyuk froze in shock, never having expected T52 of all people to do something so… _human._

He could hear Chan-yeol saying something, but he honestly heard none of it, his focus all on trying to understand what was going on. Never had the cyborgs tried to initiate physical contact on their own, though that could’ve been because of their lack of touch. But to see both cyborgs literally climbing on him to fully embrace the feeling, to touch him in every way and to just _revel_ in it, revealed so much more about their ability to grow than anything they had done in the past six years alone.

He tentatively placed his hands on T52’s waist, a motion he had done to Hong-bin not even a day ago, and T52 laughed breathlessly. “You are so blessed,” he said, his face inches from Sang-hyuk’s and his dimples so deep and pretty, “to feel this. It is so amazing to feel this.” His hands moved up to grab Sang-hyuk’s face, pressing their foreheads together and letting out another pleased moan. “You are so lucky to have felt this for your entire life. It feels so good.”

“It is,” Sang-hyuk finally managed, coughing to keep himself level. “That’s why I promised that I would give this to you. You understand now, don’t you?”

“Oh yes,” T52 said, moving closer to push their cheeks together. “I knew you would. You are the only one to never lie. I can read lies, and you never tell them.”

“I would never lie to you,” Sang-hyuk said genuinely, pursing his lips when T52 jolted again, his body falling lax as he restarted. Sang-hyuk took that time to pull his face away, turning to both Chan-yeol and Chan-sik who looked like they had seen a ghost. He knew Chan-yeol would never come near him, especially like this, so he gestured to Chan-sik. “Come here, Chan-sik.”

Chan-sik jumped. “W-what?”

Sang-hyuk wrapped a protective arm around T52’s back when he shuddered, and waved the younger man over again. “Come here. I want you to touch him.”

Chan-sik frantically shook his head, stepping back when Chan-yeol hissed at him to stay. “I-I can’t. Y-you heard it, it said it only wanted to touch you. I can’t.”

“It’s okay. I’ll help convince him. You’re going to be working with him, aren’t you? I can’t always come to help you out. You need to learn, and you need to prove to him that you’re trustworthy.” Chan-sik hesitated, glancing worriedly to Chan-yeol, and at that time T52 began to reawaken, going through the motions as he discovered his new ability all over again. Sang-hyuk let him learn this time on his own, keeping his gaze on Chan-sik. “Come here, now, Chan-sik.”

“Sang-hyuk?” T52 asked, blinking as his hands gingerly felt along Sang-hyuk’s chest. “What is going on?”

“You can touch now, don’t you see?” Sang-hyuk said sweetly, still waiting for Chan-sik. “I promised you I’d help, and look, now you can touch. I never lie.”

“Of course not.”

“Now, I have to go, so I can’t stay much longer.” He could see T52 frown, a reaction that Sang-hyuk wanted to smooth away until he was smiling and sweet again. “So, Chan-sik is going to come help you. You know who Chan-sik is, don’t you?” When he saw the confusion in the other’s eyes, he continued gently, “He’s the new intern assigned to you. He’s really nice, and he’ll be very careful. If he does anything to hurt you, you let me know and I’ll straighten him out. I promise.”

Sang-hyuk straightened in his seat to gently push Hong-bin back, helping him sit comfortably on his lap before turning to Chan-sik. “Chan-sik, come and take T52’s hand. He won’t bite.”

With both his and T52’s gaze on him, Chan-sik had no choice but to obey, sidestepping around Chan-yeol to stiffly walk over to them, his hands gripping onto his lone clipboard. Sang-hyuk took T52’s hand and held it out for Chan-sik to see. “Here; shake his hand.”

Chan-sik looked like he was about to implode as he shakily took T52’s hand, both of them flinching at the contact and Chan-sik the one to let out a weak whine. T52 didn’t look in pain, though his expression was anything but happy as he stared at the other apathetically. Sang-hyuk glowed when he saw the intern’s discomfort slowly fade to wonder, feeling T52’s hand and blinking in astonishment. “It…it feels real.”

“That’s because he is real.” Sang-hyuk ran a hand through T52’s hair, smiling fondly. “Despite everything done to him, he’s still real. And now he can feel just like you and I.” As he watched the amazement in the young intern’s eyes take in everything before him, Sang-hyuk hoped that just this once, someone would see the cyborgs in the same light as himself.


	14. Unforgotten

The results of the skin type tests ended in success, and the once fruitless endeavor to create a lining of skin that both protected the artificial attachments as well as allowed the cyborgs to feel was finally completed. It was a strange few days that followed, both Hong-bin and T52 taken into numerous special tests where every material imaginable was draped over their bodies, their reactions heavily monitored to see how long it took for them to break. Sang-hyuk was extremely grateful he never had to be present during those types of tests, unable to handle the sounds of painful screams. He was only required to be with Hong-bin afterward, to help him cope and ready him for the next.

There were talks of him possibly gaining ownership of T52, the higher-ups having noted the latter’s unexpectedly emotional response to Sang-hyuk. It was widely known that T52 was old, the outdated model having an extremely low success rate regardless of who worked with him. He was filled with problems even before Chan-yeol was in charge, which was why they were taking such note of his interactions with Sang-hyuk.

Sang-hyuk hoped he was never assigned to him; T52 was sweet, but he would never be able to manage working with both cyborgs, let alone dealing with the aftermath of the experiments.

But for now, confidence was restored into him, Sang-hyuk having supposedly proven his efficiency. Joon-myeon no longer came after him to get better updates, actually encouraging Sang-hyuk’s more gentle approach after seeing Hong-bin’s increasingly impressive results. Everyone stared at him differently, some in awe, some in respect, though to Sang-hyuk, none of it meant anything. The only thing that mattered to him was Hong-bin, and as long as he was allowed to continue doing what he wanted with no impending repercussion, he would continue to do what they wanted.

 

He was in for a surprise when he came in one morning to find the whole lab on edge, everyone dressed crisp and working with a finesse he only saw when the higher-ups were actually down on the floor. A hint of dread began to grow in the pit of his stomach as he slowly made his way over to the lobby, his eyes continuously scanning the room as he went to log himself in. Nobody said anything, only making eye contact when necessary, and he pursed his lips as he smoothly fell in line.

The halls were quiet, the low murmurs that came from soft whispers all but gone as everyone moved swiftly, and Sang-hyuk began to seriously regret not paying attention to the gossip that went around. Something was happening, yes, though whether it was something big or relatively small was unknown, and Sang-hyuk hated when he didn’t know. Had something happened to Hong-bin? To T52? Maybe Byul? There were only three working cyborgs in the lab, and it definitely would be catastrophic if something happened to any of them, especially if Sang-hyuk hadn’t been here.

But then if something _had_ happened to them, he would definitely have been called in. Had something happened to the test subjects down in the basement? He wasn’t sure if that could be it, since the speed with which everyone was moving seemed more focused, rather than panicked. During the time when all the subjects died from Test 1, a time that now made him sick to his stomach, the whole lab had been put on lockdown, all the higher-ups storming through the halls as they demanded answers. If anything remotely similar had happened, nobody would be as calm as they were now.

It wasn’t until he reached Hong-bin’s room only to find the door locked, the file hanging nearby signaling that he was out for testing, that it suddenly clicked for him, and he bolted away.

The sponsors.

They were here today, and they would be wanting to see Hong-bin.

He never moved faster than he did then, nearly shoving people out of the way to get to the elevator. The sponsors were finicky bastards that appreciated results more than effectiveness, and were the real final say when it came to what direction the cyborg experiments were to go. Joon-myeon’s position was very high, yes, and he did have a lot of control, but everything had to please the sponsors; one wrong move could easily have them pulling out, and without funding the entire operation would come crashing down.

Sang-hyuk let out the breath he had been holding when the doors finally slid open, trying his best to keep his composure as he stepped into the uncomfortable span of office doors. Not much was on the third floor, the majority of it the unused offices of the higher-ups—except for one lone room hidden in the very back, a room where the sponsors were brought to be shown the cyborgs one by one, the cyborgs forced through a litany of demonstrations to show their progress. It would be easier to show them in the downstairs test rooms, though only the best could be provided for the sponsors, and only the top floor suited those needs.

The door to the demonstration room was closed, the sound of Joon-myeon and Yifan’s voice filtering through, and Sang-hyuk stopped cold. He knew Hong-bin was inside, performing for the ones who would choose whether he lived or was to be shut down. He wished he could be with him, to help and encourage him, though such tenderness would not be what anyone wanted to see. He chewed his lip as he hovered by the door, doing his best to hear whatever he could.

“Sang-hyuk?” Sang-hyuk nearly jumped out of his skin to see Won-shik poking his head out from a nearby door, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What are you doing up here?”

“I—the sponsors,” Sang-hyuk mumbled intelligently. “I forgot. I wanted to see them before they went inside but…” He trailed off before he frowned confusedly. “What are _you_ doing up here?”

“Oh, uh, the new borg, Y09, was assigned to me. I brought it up for them to see, and I’ve just kind of hung around since.” Sang-hyuk didn’t miss the way Won-shik already referred to Byul as an object, a detachment that was encouraged, and he couldn’t help but think of how hard Sung-jae had taken it. Won-shik waited a few seconds before looking Sang-hyuk over, his brow furrowing. “You look like you just ran a marathon. What are you doing getting so worked up for?”

Sang-hyuk ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips as he tried to keep his voice steady. “X39 has been progressing rapidly in the past couple weeks. I’m just worried about how they’re going to take it.”

“Ah.” Won-shik looked just as uncomfortable as Sang-hyuk was uneasy, his face scrunching up as if trying to find the right words to say. Won-shik was so awkward sometimes, and it was times like these when Sang-hyuk was sure if they had met under different circumstances, they would have made pretty great friends. “Well, there’s a window in here, if you wanna look. You can’t see the borgs, obviously, but you can see the sponsors. If you want-”

“Yes!” Sang-hyuk was inside the room before Won-shik even had time to finish, immediately finding the window and nearly plastering himself against the glass. He could hear Won-shik chortle before joining him, a silence falling over them that was near suffocating.

There were ten sponsors in all. He could see them all sitting in comfortable, plush seats, looking so prim and proper as they listened to Joon-myeon speak. For the majority of them, there was nothing discernable about them, each as faceless as the next. Neatly done hair, expensive clothes that covered bodies doused in makeup and money; they were the perfect example of people so far above others they created a wall from their presence alone. Sang-hyuk hated it. They never had to worry about anything, their money earned from the blood and sweat of others keeping them safe and oblivious. It allowed them time to look into anything worth their fancy, including funding ridiculous projects to create machines out of men.

His eyes scanned their empty faces until he finally found them, his hands subconsciously clenching into fists, and Won-shik noticed. “They’re there.”

“I see them.”

There were two of them, sitting together with their hands in their laps and their backs straight, heads held high with a perfected type of grace. If he hadn’t known beforehand, he never would have guessed they were married. He looked to the man first, anger rushing through him when he was able to see Hak-yeon’s nose on his face. He could see the softness of Hak-yeon’s cheeks on the woman, shaking when he saw Hak-yeon’s eyes as well. He hated them, hated them more than the other sponsors, than Joon-myeon—more than his own father, and he was so thankful that Hak-yeon hadn’t received his inherent sweetness from either of them.

Won-shik hummed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Does he know?”

“…no.”

Won-shik sighed, having received the same answer so many times. “Do you ever plan on telling him?”

“No.”

They fell quiet when they saw Joon-myeon wave his arm, no doubt directing their attention to whichever cyborg was on display at the time. Sang-hyuk wished he could see whoever it was, even if it was only to feel the humiliation the cyborg could not. He could only imagine how Hong-bin was doing, no longer sure what Hong-bin could and could not feel, what he remembered seeming to change each day. He only hoped that it still kept him from feeling anything but apathy as he was forced to dance their ridiculous dance.

“I hate them,” Sang-hyuk whispered, his eyes unable to look away from the two. “They never cared about Hak-yeon. I have already made him suffer so much just to be with me. I would never make him suffer more just to lighten my conscience. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Won-shik let out a soft sigh as he clapped his hand on Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “I won’t push you, but you should tell him. He might or might not take it well, but nobody deserves to have secrets like this kept from them. Just think about it, okay?”

He never did answer, refusing to give a promise he had no intention of keeping.

\--

It was hours before the sponsors were finally shown out, everyone on edge as they made one final sweep of the main lab before leaving. Sang-hyuk waited until they were gone to secretly make his way to Hong-bin’s room, wanting to see him and just make sure he was okay. While he still hadn’t been told about any of the decisions, he could only hope that the fact no one called him yet to tell him Hong-bin was shut down meant everything had probably gone okay. But even then, he couldn’t help but be worried. Were they impressed? Indifferent? Were they going to wipe him? Everything they thought, everything they _felt_ , would determine what would happen, and he hated that he had no control.

His eyes looked to the hanging file when he arrived at Hong-bin’s room, immediately noticing the testing card gone, and knew that Hong-bin was inside waiting for him. He didn’t bother checking as he swung the door open, swallowing when he saw Hong-bin sitting like always, his chest closed and fully aware. Sang-hyuk had seen Hong-bin so many times after sponsor demonstrations, though never had Hong-bin been so aware that Sang-hyuk could see the silent pleading in his eyes.

“Hong-bin,” he breathed as he rushed over, his hands instinctively wrapping around Hong-bin’s cheeks and frantically looking him over. Nothing looked wrong, the skin as smooth and soft as always, but Sang-hyuk could never tell. There was no telling what had really been done or how Hong-bin truly felt, and Sang-hyuk knew he had to find out. He ran his hands all over Hong-bin’s face and through his hair, touches he knew Hong-bin secretly craved, and he could see the silent pleasure in the way Hong-bin’s eyes fluttered and a moan passed through his lips. “Hong-bin, are you okay?”

“I am fine,” he responded automatically, his hands cupping over Sang-hyuk’s and guiding them back to his cheeks, his eyes closed as he pressed his lips to Sang-hyuk’s palms. Sang-hyuk was not sure where Hong-bin had learned so many intimate gestures, and while he was curious, he could not find it in him to worry.

“Were the tests hard?” he asked, letting Hong-bin distract himself with his hands so he could take the time to make sure he was really okay. Hong-bin hummed.

“They were the same.”

“But were they hard?”

Hong-bin opened his eyes to stare at Sang-hyuk, the weight of his gaze sucking the breath right from Sang-hyuk’s throat. “I do not have the same conception of difficulty as you do, and do not feel the tests to be any different now than before. Do not worry yourself, Sang-hyuk.” Sang-hyuk snapped his mouth shut as he waited until Hong-bin was done touching himself, finally releasing Sang-hyuk’s hands and matching his gaze. “You always have the same expression. It is different from before.”

Sang-hyuk knew what he was referring to and sighed, subconsciously placing a hand on Hong-bin’s knee and massaging it. He knew how much Hong-bin loved it. “I’m sorry. There’s a lot more to worry about here. Back then, all I had to worry about was doing my homework and making sure my father never found me. It was easier to smile.”

“Why do you not smile now?” Hong-bin tilted his head as he asked, his tone polite, and Sang-hyuk smiled back in turn.

“If you want, I can smile more. It’s hard to smile when the bags under my eyes run halfway down my face.” His sad attempt at a joke fell flat in front of the cyborg in front of him, and he laughed at himself for even trying. Hong-bin saw him laugh and narrowed his eyes, just a small twitch of his brow, and Sang-hyuk grinned as he reached out and smoothed over the creases. Hong-bin watched him all the while, humming softly.

“Sang-hyuk.”

“Yes?”

“Follow me.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t even have time to ask what he meant when Hong-bin suddenly latched onto his wrist, pulling him onto the bed with a strength he was still learning to control. He struggled to crawl onto his hands and knees, looking around to try and figure out what Hong-bin was doing, only to see the latter carefully scooting back until his back was pressed against the wall, his eyes full of sharp focus. He decided it best to stay still as he watched Hong-bin run his hands over everything, making sure everything was perfect before snapping his eyes back up to Sang-hyuk.

“Come here, Sang-hyuk.”

It was a simple command, one that would be normal even before all of Hong-bin’s sudden changes, though it didn’t make it any less startling to hear such conviction in the normally placid voice. Sang-hyuk awkwardly moved his hand forward, yelping uselessly when Hong-bin grabbed his wrist again and pulled, his hands unusually deft as they whipped him around and placed him onto his lap like a child, his arms firm as they wrapped around Sang-hyuk’s waist.

Sang-hyuk could only blink at the sudden turn of events, his fingers shaking in his lap as unforgotten memories flooded his mind. The last time Hong-bin had held him like this resulted in the latter having his mind completely erased, leaving him an empty machine that did nothing more than force Sang-hyuk to relive memories that broke his heart every day. Hong-bin had never done anything remotely similar since, and to suddenly feel it now filled Sang-hyuk with a horrifying mixture of excitement and dread.

“H-Hong-bin,” he tried, his voice shaky as he felt Hong-bin’s hand rub circles into his stomach, and he never wanted to cry so bad. “Hong-bin…w-what are you doing?”

“I am hugging you.” Sang-hyuk tried to turn around and Hong-bin held him tighter, pressing his chin into his shoulder. “Stay still. I am trying to make you feel better.”

It took Sang-hyuk a second to figure out what he meant, and he couldn’t help the genuine laugh that left his lips, allowing himself to clumsily lean back into Hong-bin’s chest. Hong-bin shifted along with him, his hands splayed out across Sang-hyuk’s stomach, and it was such a surreal situation that Sang-hyuk almost couldn’t believe it was real.

“You do know they’re watching, don’t you? The cameras-”

“I am aware.” Hong-bin’s fingers hooked onto the pocket of Sang-hyuk’s lab coat, grunting. “Do not wear this. It is cumbersome.”

“What?” was all Sang-hyuk managed before Hong-bin pushed him away—only to rip Sang-hyuk’s coat off in one swift motion, the heavy fabric thrown uselessly to the floor. Sang-hyuk felt self-consciously naked without the coat he’d worn every day for over six years, and hurriedly tried to get it back only for Hong-bin to crush him against his chest again. Sang-hyuk groaned as Hong-bin’s fingers unknowingly dug into his skin, and he shifted purposefully to rub against Hong-bin’s thighs. “What are you doing, really?”

“You have had to deal with my inconsistencies for many years. I am trying to convey to you that I understand.”

“What?”

Hong-bin ignored his question as he began to poke at Sang-hyuk’s shirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “This feels…soft. Is that right?” Sang-hyuk could only nod as he watched, his heart near bursting. Hak-yeon always insisted Sang-hyuk wear only the nicest of clothes when he went to work, never minding that nearly everyone else usually looked like they had just rolled out of bed. He filled Sang-hyuk’s closet with only silk shirts, the buttons thick and the price no doubt one that would have him choking. While he outwardly grumbled and whined, Sang-hyuk was very proud showing off what his Hak-yeon had chosen for him, and watching Hong-bin enjoy the feel couldn’t have made him any prouder.

He would have to let Hak-yeon know. He could only imagine how bright Hak-yeon’s smile would be.

Hong-bin’s hands trailed down to take Sang-hyuk’s, his cheek pressed against Sang-hyuk’s own. “What is stopping you from smiling?”

It was a loaded question, and one Sang-hyuk had no way of truly answering. He instead focused his attention on the feel of Hong-bin’s skin against his own, easily convincing himself the two were both real and no longer separated by the metal that littered Hong-bin’s body. “I’m just…I’m scared.”

“Fear is caused by the unknown. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m scared you’re going to disappear again.” Hong-bin hummed, his one hand rubbing circles into his hand, something Sang-hyuk had done so many times. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly remembering so many things, and I’m scared if they find out they’re going to wipe you.” His voice lowered, barely above a whisper. “I’m scared they’re going to make me erase you again, and I don’t know if I could do it.”

Hong-bin’s hand patted his, such a simple gesture so soothing. “If that is all, then there is nothing to be afraid of.” He paused to tighten his hold, as if awaiting the inevitable. “I was never wiped.”

Those four words sent the coldest shiver down Sang-hyuk’s spine, and he ripped himself away with an ingrained fear that pushed him forward. At that moment, it wasn’t Hong-bin sitting in front of him, the cyborg that he had taken care of for the past six years. It wasn’t the Hong-bin that he had met that warm summer day either, refusing to taint that wonderful, innocent memory. No, in front of him sat a faceless entity that was all the demons that had been growing inside himself put in one empty body. He scrambled to the other side of the bed, the cameras and peering eyes that were no doubt watching at the very back of his mind.

“What?” he hissed, wrapping his arms around himself to protect what little left he could. “What do you mean you weren’t wiped?”

Hong-bin blinked, his motions simple and calm as he held his hands out for him, neither rushed nor slow. “My memories were never erased. You did not wipe me.”

“What? _What?”_ Sang-hyuk felt as if that was the only word he could say, his heart shattering as he floundered to find _something_ that made sense. All those years…all those years he spent hating himself and feeling guilty—for _nothing._ If what Hong-bin was saying was true, then all the pain that Sang-hyuk had purposefully carried alone meant _nothing._ “What the hell are you saying? How—I pushed that button! I watched you die! I had to listen to you ask me who I was, had to teach you your own name! You can’t tell me that didn’t happen. Don’t you _dare_ tell me that didn’t happen!”

The edges of Hong-bin’s mouth fell, his attempt to match Sang-hyuk’s mood in a way he found best, and Sang-hyuk wanted nothing more than to smack it away. “I was not aware that my telling you would cause such a reaction. I apologize if you took my words to mean more than what they are.”

“Then what were they _meant_ to mean?” he growled, flinching back when Hong-bin leaned forward.

“I had assumed that you would be able to handle the fact that I had only pretended to have been wiped, but I see now that that was a false assumption.” Hong-bin’s eyes never looked away as Sang-hyuk slowly curled in on himself, his hands never loosening as he tried to keep himself in the present. He remembered the nights crying in Hak-yeon’s arms, the dread he felt coming into work to see Hong-bin staring blankly at him, the fear he felt when Won-shik taught him how to open Hong-bin’s chest because Hong-bin couldn’t remember how himself; to think that all that was for nothing, that Hong-bin had been aware the whole time…. Tears ran down his cheeks as his hands tangled into his hair, his face buried in his knees as he cried.

All this time he had let the world crumble onto his shoulders, when in reality he had never needed to carry even a pebble.

He felt so incredibly weak.

He felt so incredibly _stupid._

“Sang-hyuk.” He could hear Hong-bin’s voice next to him, the blankets rustling, yet he refused to lift his head, unable to face his reality. “I did not hide myself to hurt you. I would never do anything that would jeopardize your life, which was why I decided it best to pretend I was erased.”

Sang-hyuk’s sobs ceased, his body tired and his head throbbing, though he listened to every word with a hope that clung to each syllable desperately. “I have been wiped before. I was only a test subject, and was treated as such. I attempted to adapt at first, though it was not what they wanted. They would only respond with more experiments until I no longer had any independent thought.”

Sang-hyuk had never heard Hong-bin speak so much, let alone of what happened to him before they met. He lifted his head to see Hong-bin staring at him, and he looked down to see Hong-bin tentatively reach out to take his hand. It was a warm gesture, only contrasted by how cold his body was.

“It was not until your father took me to your home and I met you that I discovered how humans really were. I cannot explain what it was like to be with you. You were the first human to smile at me. You took the time to teach me things about the world. That time was not long, but I am able to remember every second of it.”

Sang-hyuk wiped the tears and snot away with the back of his hand, blubbering uselessly as Hong-bin continued to speak, his words so quiet and firm.

“When they brought you in, I knew what they wanted to do. I am not able to understand the emotions that try to guide my thoughts, but I knew then that I did not want you here. This place was nothing like your home, and I knew it would take away your brightness. I did not want to lose the memories that you had given me. So, I could only pretend to make sure you were safe. I apologize for the pain it has caused you.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t say anything for the longest time, deeply moved and overwhelmed all at once, his chest so heavy he could only gasp for air. Hong-bin…he felt a great whirlwind of hurt, betrayal, gratefulness, love, and so many other emotions; he lurched forward and fell on Hong-bin in a strong embrace. “Thank you,” he sobbed, crying freely as he could only repeat those two words. “Thank you…thank you.”

Hong-bin’s body was stiff as his arms moved up to hug him back, and his fingers were just brushing Sang-hyuk’s back when—

“Sang-hyuk!”

Sang-hyuk jerked back, eyes wide and a litany of jumbled curses running through his head when he saw Won-shik standing at the door, the latter’s eyes looking between him and Hong-bin. Why was he here? How did he know—did he see the tapes? Had he been watching? Joon-myeon had said it was okay, had approved him letting Hong-bin take charge—

“W-Won-shik?”

“Let’s go. Now.” Won-shik stormed forward and grabbed Sang-hyuk’s wrist, giving Hong-bin a level glare before tugging him toward the door.

“No, wait—what are you doing? Hong-bin—I mean, X39—I was in a t-test—”

“Damn right you were in a test,” he snapped, refusing to let go as he shoved him out of the room, Sang-hyuk only able to get one last glance of Hong-bin before the door was slammed closed. “Do not speak a word and come with me. We need to figure this out before anyone finds out.”

He had no idea what was going on, only blindly following Won-shik and trying his best to ignore the curious glances from people passing by. He knew he looked like a mess, dried tears on his cheeks and his hair a mess—not to mention his shirt full of wrinkles and half tucked. He really wished Won-shik had given him some time to look presentable, though didn’t dare say anything from how angry Won-shik looked. He honestly hadn’t seen Won-shik this upset in a long time, and it still scared him as much as it did when he first met him.

He was surprised when Won-shik finally stopped in front of the records room, opening the door to show an entire wall of monitors, each with a display from a different room that filled up the lab. Sang-hyuk’s eyes immediately caught onto the one with Hong-bin on it, able to see everything going on in the room as Hong-bin carefully moved back to his normal seat.

The two people manning the room whirled around in alarm at the sound of the door bursting open, not taking any time to run when Won-shik ordered them out. Sang-hyuk could feel himself begin to sweat as it slowly dawned on him why they were here, and he started to shake when Won-shik wordlessly went to the computer, typing furiously until Hong-bin’s monitor flashed, rewinding until both Hong-bin and Sang-hyuk were on the screen. Hong-bin was speaking while Sang-hyuk cried pathetically, and it was clear how different Hong-bin was acting from the way he comforted Sang-hyuk.

Won-shik turned his angry eyes toward him. “What were you thinking, Hyuk?”

“I-I-”

“If anyone saw this, can you imagine what they’d do? They’d kill you. They’d kill Hak-yeon. Hell, who knows, they might even shut X39 down! What game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing anything! Hong—X39 is the one doing it all! You know me, I can’t lie to save my life! I’m just trying to do my job-”

“Damn it, I saw you sitting in its lap!” Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened. “You were always unpredictable and stupid, but never _this_ stupid! Fuck, I care about you, you idiot, but there’s only so much I can do before your stupidity gets you killed!” He glanced back at the camera to see them hugging, and he groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Look, I’m going to help you this once. Unfortunately, we can’t delete it because that would raise too many alarm bells. But I’ll talk to Joon-myeon and try to convince him that it was just a reaction to the sponsors’ demonstration.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed guiltily as he watched how worked up Won-shik was, feeling ashamed at the way Hong-bin shushed and coddled him like a child. Won-shik noticed his mood and his expression softened, letting out a sad sigh. “I’ve told you so many times not to get attached. It’s not good for you, Hyuk. I mean it. So please, _please,_ think about it next time, okay?”

Sang-hyuk nodded, his entire world numb.

\--

_Sang-hyuk, his sweet child._

_He did not like seeing Sang-hyuk cry. He could still remember Sang-hyuk’s bright smiles with alarming clarity, and he could not describe how much he did not like seeing how dull he had become. Sang-hyuk always had the same expression, with eyes that appeared as if about to cry. The Sang-hyuk he remembered was not afraid to speak, always smiling and inviting, and merely looked at his open chest with simple curiosity. Sang-hyuk was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he did not like how much this place had changed him._

_He therefore could not tell him why he pretended to have his memories erased. Sang-hyuk was very fragile, and if he was told too much at once would collapse into tears. He had seen his sweet child break down so many times and could do nothing but watch. It was a situation he did not want, and for that reason he could never tell him the truth._

_He could not tell Sang-hyuk that the reason his body always had problems in the past was because he would purposefully break his limbs. He could not tell him that he would feign ignorance, holding his tongue whenever Sang-hyuk would ask how he was or if he could recall previous sessions. He could not tell him that his refusal to work with anyone but Sang-hyuk was from pure decision alone, having nothing to do with faulty programming. He could never tell that he would rather go through unnecessary tests just to make sure that Sang-hyuk would be the only one assigned to him._

_He did not care if it upset any of the others, or if it caused him to be labeled as ‘faulty’. He would ensure Sang-hyuk’s safety in this prison, and would make sure he would be given a job that would be the easiest for him to handle. He would never be difficult; he would follow everything Sang-hyuk asked without ever making a sound._

_He would have continued this ruse for as long as they were both alive, had he not heard the complaints. Because of his established status as faulty, the humans around him spoke as if he was not there, and it was at that time they spoke of their doubts on Sang-hyuk’s efficiency. They knew that only Sang-hyuk could work with him, but they believed Sang-hyuk to be useless, falsely assuming that his numerous mechanical problems were due to Sang-hyuk’s incapability. He did not give away that he had heard and understood their words, though he was alarmed to realize what they meant._

_By attempting to ensure Sang-hyuk’s safety, he had only endangered him further._

_That was the only reason he spoke to Sang-hyuk as he did now, revealing that he remembered more than he originally let on. He had tried to tell Sang-hyuk slowly over numerous sessions, hoping not to overwhelm him, though it seemed that no matter his intention, he would always hurt Sang-hyuk._

_His only desire in this prison was to make Sang-hyuk smile, and if that meant Sang-hyuk believed him to be a liar, then he would gladly take that title._


	15. Miscalculation

His father had returned, and with him returned the normalcy of the life Sang-hyuk had known. The next morning it was as if he had never left, his father sitting at the kitchen table while his mother cooked breakfast. The sound of clinking pans and his father silently sipping coffee were reassuring, and Sang-hyuk could feel his body calm despite how much his heart raced. It wasn’t that Sang-hyuk was surprised his father had come back so quickly, the amount of time he was gone always changing. No, it was a more foreign feeling, one that left him dazed and confused as he cautiously sat next to his father.

It was disappointment.

It had been short, but Sang-hyuk had come to really enjoy the short talks he had with Hong-bin, and a part of him had been excited to see him again. While he hadn’t been Hak-yeon, it had been a new experience to speak with someone who knew just as little as he did of the world, and to try and teach each other things they didn’t really understand. A part of him had even thought about introducing him to Hak-yeon the next time his friend came over, so he could show him off and prove he wasn’t scary. But to see his father here now…he knew it would all become a thing of the past, a useless fantasy he would force himself to forget.

No one could come in, no one could go out; while that rule obviously didn’t pertain to his father, he knew that he could never cross it.

He could never talk to Hong-bin again.

So, despite how much he wanted to poke his head in to try and get a quick glance of the man, he didn’t dare go near the office. For the rest of the short time Hong-bin stayed in his house, Sang-hyuk never once went near him. He really wished he did, for once ignoring all his fears as he shoved past his father just to say hi, to ask Hong-bin how he was and to see if he remembered he was supposed to ask back. He wished he had given him more hugs, or taught him more emotions and joked around enough to teach Hong-bin how to really smile; there were so many things he should have done while he was still innocent and free.

But it was all in the past, and the day he watched his father put Hong-bin in the car and drive away filled him with a wretchedness he couldn’t even begin to repress. That day, while his father’s back was turned, Hong-bin turned his head from inside the car to look to Sang-hyuk’s window, catching his eye. For that brief second, they stared only at each other, and Hong-bin raised his hand to wiggle his fingers goodbye. Sang-hyuk had wanted to wave back, but with his father so nearby, he ended up being a pathetic waste who did nothing but look away, and instead watched as Hong-bin continued to watch him until the car was out of sight.

He would have cherished the time they did have together more if he had known it would have been their last.

\--

It was at least a week since his father had taken Hong-bin away, and Sang-hyuk had easily slipped back into normal routine. Every morning he woke up to birds chirping outside his window, the light that managed to filter through his curtains cascading across the floor in a dull glow. Each time he sat in his bed for a long while, staring at the wall in a blank daze, the soft blankets underneath his fingers unable to calm his mind that had begun to race since the day he met Hong-bin.

There was a whole world outside of his house, one that spanned millions of miles past the small patch of grass by his front door. One that went beyond wherever Hak-yeon lived, past the trees and the sky and all the people that walked along without any idea there were people hidden beneath. While he had imagined the world to be filled with so many possibilities, Hong-bin had showed him that there were still people who were as deprived and miserable as himself. It was a hard reality to swallow, and every time he tried to imagine the world and all of its freedom, he could only picture Hong-bin’s face.

He wondered how much his father knew about what Hong-bin’s master had done, and couldn’t help remembering the sound of his father’s grating voice screaming over him, the sound of fear laced throughout. How much did he know? He took Hong-bin away right after that; did he take him somewhere to get help? Or did he just return him back to that hell? He could still remember the confusion in Hong-bin’s voice as he asked how to hug, and he wished he had been strong enough to tell his father to leave him alone.

He sighed as he finally rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and frowning when he didn’t hear the sound of pans in the kitchen, the house eerily silent. Did his father leave again? His mother was always in the kitchen when his father was home; if she wasn’t there, did something happen?

He felt time slow as he made his way to the kitchen, the world seeming to know what was waiting for him and doing what it could to ready him. The birds all fell quiet, the sun shining warmly through the windows, the breeze sweet and full of flowers and fresh grass; the sound of his feet gently padding against the wooden floor seemed to reverberate in his ears, mixing with the sound of his rapidly beating heart. There was no reason to be afraid, and yet everything around him seemed to scream at him to run.

He wished he had listened.

Because there, sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen, were the mutilated bodies of his parents. He gasped in silent horror as his chest compressed and his throat stopped, silent screams he couldn’t release sucking his breath away. Nothing seemed wrong, the whole room a scene like any other morning; the rice cooker was beeping steadily, his father’s steaming coffee sitting on the table, the newspaper folded neatly beside it. It was so sunny and bright, dust particles sparkling like diamonds in the light, that Sang-hyuk couldn’t comprehend the brutal scene that contrasted so horrifyingly against it all.

His father’s throat was slit, the blood that trickled from the wound slow and steady as it pooled around his body. His face was pale, his body drained, and Sang-hyuk found himself unable to look away from the dead eyes that stared out, glaring and afraid. Whatever had killed him had left him terrified, and he had been unable to do anything but stare in horror. His mother…someone had been angry, and they had taken it out on her. Her body was ripped to pieces, severed neatly and cleanly, not a drop of blood anywhere. Her severed head was thankfully face down, her arms and legs scattered around her battered torso. It was truly horrifying, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t look away no matter how much he wanted to pretend it was all a dream.

And then he heard voices.

His body went on autopilot.

He bolted back to his room, slamming to his knees as he ripped the box out from under his bed, whipping out the small phone. He didn’t even register the numbers he pressed as he hurriedly crawled under the bed, silent tears running down his cheeks as he prayed for him to answer.

 _“Hyukkie!”_ came Hak-yeon’s cheery voice, and just the sound alone caused a broken sob to escape his lips. He frantically slapped a hand over his mouth, his heart beating against his chest as he began to hear voices filtering down the hallway, the soft sounds sending rivets of panic down his spine. There was only one reason why those people were here, and it seemed for now that they didn’t know he was here. He couldn’t chance anything, and he had to make sure they never found out.

Hak-yeon heard his cry, and the change in his voice was instant. _“What happened? Did he hurt you?”_

Only Hak-yeon would believe so, Sang-hyuk having called him on numerous occasions after his father hurt him. But never did Sang-hyuk want Hak-yeon not to jump to such a conclusion as much as he did now, suddenly hearing footsteps moving to his father’s office, the sound of glass shattering and things crashing so loud, and Sang-hyuk began to shake in fear. They were so close to his room, he could almost see their feet from his place under the bed, and his fingers dug deep into his cheek.

“H-Hak-yeonnie…” he whimpered, so afraid, and he could hear something crash on the other end.

_“Don’t move. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”_

“N-no-” he tried, though Hak-yeon hung up before he could even open his mouth. He froze when he saw two pairs of feet enter the room, and he didn’t even dare to breathe as he saw them slowly walk around. They went to his window, his closet, his desk—maybe they didn’t know he was here? Maybe they thought he was out at a friend’s house, or outside playing? They didn’t know his father locked him inside the house, they would just assume he went out or—

He screamed when a face suddenly appeared, smirking triumphantly. “Found you.”

Sang-hyuk was too scared to react when the man stood up, too scared to even cry when the bed was lifted up and thrown to the side, the sound of splintering wood muffled. The whole world seemed muted as the same man bent down and ripped his phone from his fingers, his body useless as his arms were wrenched behind his back and his chin forcefully pulled up. He was only aware of the tears that streamed down his cheeks, his eyes widened in perpetual fear as he realized he was going to die.

He had woken up this morning just like any other—what happened?

“Well,” the man that took his phone said, laughing, “you must be a stupid little shit. Didn’t even think to call the police.” Sang-hyuk watched helplessly as he dropped the phone and crushed it with his heel, grinning mercilessly at Sang-hyuk’s pathetic whimpers. “You know, I got to give it to you. You really tried to hide.” The person holding his body in place laughed along, and Sang-hyuk could feel shame flooding his face. “Though you almost got away with it. Han Jae-myun never talked about a son.”

The hands around his arms grew tighter as the man stepped forward, pulling out a knife and placing it against Sang-hyuk’s throat. The blade was cold, placed right under his chin, and all Sang-hyuk could do was cry. He had never been so scared before, the man in front of him infinitely scarier than his father could ever have hoped to be. The man seemed to enjoy his fear, crouching down to Sang-hyuk’s eye level and leaning in closer, his smirk turning into a frown that only made Sang-hyuk finally sob freely.

The man’s hand shot out and grabbed Sang-hyuk’s chin, the knife forgotten on the floor. His fingers were hard, nearly drawing blood, and Sang-hyuk bit his tongue when the man shoved his hair from his face to get a better look. Sang-hyuk squeezed his eyes shut when the man let go, ready for the worst, only to hear the man chuckle, flinching when he felt fingers tickle his chin. “Well shit, who’d have thought?”

“What is it?” the other man asked.

The fingers tickling his chin stopped, trailing up to tap Sang-hyuk’s cheek playfully. “You remember that Han Jae-myun brought X39 to his house for a week, don’t you?” He waited until the other man answered uncertainly before he grabbed Sang-hyuk’s chin again, crushing it hard enough Sang-hyuk’s eyes were forced open. He wrenched Sang-hyuk’s head around so he was forced to look up into the eyes of the man holding him down. “Where do you remember seeing this pretty face?”

The man’s eye widened. “Shit—that can’t be-”

“This kid was all over the borg’s memories. You know there were no kids with Moon-hyuk; there’s only one other place where it could’ve come in contact with one.” The man yanked Sang-hyuk’s chin down so they were staring at each other again, his grin so wide. “So, tell me kid, were you the one with X39?”  

Sang-hyuk blanked. These men speaking over him, he had no idea what they were talking about or what they were referring to; they mentioned his father a few times—were they people his father worked for? Against? His eyes blurred as he wondered just what kind of work his father had been doing, and if that was the reason everything was falling apart.

The man sighed when Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, rolling his eyes before playfully patting his cheek. “We’ll take him with us, just to be sure. If he is the one, we can suit him up and get him working. If not, we’ll kill him.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened in horror, though it didn’t seem to faze either of them as they dragged him to his feet, still holding his arms behind his back. He had no idea what was going on—what did they want from him? He didn’t know anything! He was just some little boy who lived in his parents’ house, did his work, listened well, stayed quiet. He never went out, never disobeyed; why was this happening to him? He wished they would just kill him; the idea of death seeming so much easier than wherever they were taking him.

They were just about to lead him out of the room when a loud bang from the front of the house stopped them all cold, and Sang-hyuk’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. There was only one person that would be.

“Who the hell-”

“Don’t hurt him-!”

“Sang-hyuk!” The two men yanked him back when Hak-yeon burst through his bedroom door, the latter stopping short at the sight of them. Sang-hyuk had always felt a mixture of guilt and love whenever he thought of Hak-yeon, though there was no love in that moment, overwhelming guilt crashing over him in waves at the sight of his beloved friend standing in shock. Hak-yeon’s eyes immediately flitted down to the knife in the one man’s hands before looking back to Sang-hyuk, and Sang-hyuk knew what he was going to do.

“Don’t, Hak-yeon!” he cried, surprising all of them as he shook his head fiercely. He knew Hak-yeon and the lengths he would go to save him, and he would never let that happen. Sang-hyuk had always been the one to follow, completely content with letting Hak-yeon always lead the way. But not this time. This was all his fault, and he would be the one to finally step up and protect his friend the way Hak-yeon had always done for him. “Don’t come any closer!”

The one man laughed, looking between the two of them while fingering the knife in his hands. “Wait, was this who you called?” He eyed Hak-yeon with a sickening grin, his eyes flashing with recognition that had both Sang-hyuk and Hak-yeon frowning in confusion. “I see. Interesting.”

“Please don’t hurt him,” Sang-hyuk begged. “He’s my friend—he only came because I called him. He doesn’t know anything—please don’t hurt him!”

“Oh, don’t worry. We wouldn’t hurt such a pretty face.” The man behind Sang-hyuk groaned, and that only made the other laugh again. He seemed to find everything funny, and that made it all the more terrifying. “He can come if you want. You two can live together and live happy lives and all that other cheesy stuff you kids are probably into.”

“Sang-hyuk, what’s going on?” Hak-yeon tried to ask, flinching when the man pointed the knife at him.

“You don’t get to talk, unfortunately. It all depends on Sang-hyuk. If he says yes, then you can come along with us. If he says no, then we’ll have to kill you. It’s unfortunate, really. You’ve seen too much for us to just let you go.” He turned back to Sang-hyuk, his light tone contrasting against the deadly stakes he was setting. “So, Sang-hyukkie, what are you thinking? Do you want to bring your precious Hak-yeonnie or no?”

They all turned to Sang-hyuk, and he whimpered pitifully.

Hak-yeon had always been the stronger of the two, the one to put himself in harm’s way first to make sure it was safe. He was the one who stood up to Sang-hyuk’s father to defend him. He was the one who forced himself into an uncomfortable dinner, ignoring his mother’s empty stare, just to make sure Sang-hyuk was okay. He was the one who, without fail, would sneak over to Sang-hyuk’s room just to give him company. He was, he was, he was—Hak-yeon was everything, and Sang-hyuk followed along silently, holding his hand and watching his back.

Now, as Hak-yeon stared at him in confusion and the man waited for his answer, it was Sang-hyuk’s turn to finally become the strong one.

“Yes. I want to bring him.”

“Great! Then he can just hop in the car with us! Luckily we have an extra seat-”

“Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon interrupted again, still so lost with not a single one of his questions answered. He stumbled back when the man tried to grab him, crying out in alarm when the man’s hand clamped down on his arm. “What’s going on? Who are these people?”

“I-I’ll explain everything later,” Sang-hyuk managed, wincing when they began to herd them out of the room. He wasn’t sure what he would say or how he would explain when he barely knew anything himself, but he had to do whatever he could do to keep Hak-yeon quiet. These men were willing to bring Hak-yeon now, for whatever reason, but who knew how willing they’d be if Hak-yeon continued to annoy them. “I promise.”

Hak-yeon quieted down at the quiver in his voice, and despite how much the men tried to hold him back, he pushed himself forward to wrap his arms around Sang-hyuk in a comforting hug. It was a familiar warmth, a reassuring touch, and Sang-hyuk collapsed against Hak-yeon’s chest, his body wracked with the sobs he had been too afraid to let out before. His parents’ dead bodies, the terror under the bed, the fear with the knife pressed to his neck; all that time he had been too afraid to react, too scared to move, and now with Hak-yeon shushing him softly, everything came tumbling out.

Even now, Hak-yeon was the one protecting him.

He could feel Hak-yeon’s arms tighten around him when they walked through the hallway, his fingers trembling as they passed his parents’ bodies.

He would never be strong enough. He would never be able to step up and stand on his own.

They were pushed into a car, Hak-yeon holding him close and Sang-hyuk too afraid to pull away. The man slid in next to them before the car took off, and Sang-hyuk turned to watch as the little house that had been his entire world slowly disappear.

He would always follow.

\--

Sang-hyuk held onto Hak-yeon’s hand like an anchor when they finally stopped, never leaving his side when they were eventually pulled out of the car. Even then, Sang-hyuk couldn’t help looking around in wonder, never having seen so many people and buildings before in his life. There were no trees here, no grass as rows upon rows of concrete lined the ground with hundreds of cars driving past. People were everywhere, bustling around as they moved with purpose, never even giving him a second glance. It was the world he had always imagined, but would never have the chance of ever enjoying.

Hak-yeon continued to run his hands down Sang-hyuk’s back, doing his best to soothe him despite not having any idea what was going on. It worked a little, Sang-hyuk able to keep somewhat calm as they followed the two men into the nearest building, though was unable to look away from the floor when they stepped inside. It felt as if everyone was staring at him, his skin prickling under the weight, and Hak-yeon’s grip tightened. He was so ashamed at how thankful he was to have Hak-yeon with him, his friend glaring back and taking the majority of the attention away from him.

He could hear the sound of the two men, neither trying to keep their voice low as one waved goodbye while the other took them deeper into the building. The building was as wide as it was tall, and it felt like going through a maze with how many times they twisted and turned through the halls. The man glanced back at them, chuckling apologetically. “Sorry about all this. We had to park in the back, so it’ll take us a minute to get to the front.” Neither he nor Hak-yeon answered, though it didn’t seem to bother the man, him just laughing again.

When they finally arrived in the lobby, the room a huge expanse of walls and elaborate flooring, Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but gawk at everything from the safety of Hak-yeon’s warm arms. As Won-shik spoke with the woman at the front desk, he ran his eyes over the tall, detailed ceiling in amazement at how anything could be so beautiful and vast, having never seen anything so _big_ before. The world outside had been huge, yes, but this was a kind of overwhelming that he could actually wrap his head around, looking from the ceiling down to the painted walls, the plaster running and twisting in an explosion of colors and shades of beige and white and everything in between. He turned his eyes to the floor, scraping his shoe against the tiled floor and listening to the echoing sounds it made. His home had been made of nothing but cheap plaster and old wood; what else was out in the world?

Hak-yeon realized what he was doing and placed a reassuring kiss on his head, his arms moving up to wrap around his chest comfortingly.

It helped a lot.

The man thanked the woman and shook a key at them, taking a second to stare at how taken aback Sang-hyuk was at everything, a rare, conflicted frown passing over his face. “Your dad really kept you hidden, didn’t he?” Sang-hyuk didn’t respond, wasn’t sure how to respond, and the man sighed. “I’ll drop you off at your place and let you guys do your thing; don’t worry about anything for today. I’ll be here to pick you up at six tomorrow morning, so be ready.”

“‘Pick him up’?” Hak-yeon asked, refusing to move even when the man tried to lead them to the elevator. “What do you mean ‘pick him up’? Where are you taking him?”

“Hak-yeon, don’t,” Sang-hyuk whispered pleadingly, and Hak-yeon begrudgingly quieted down as they followed the man into the elevator. It was an uncomfortable air, the three of them alone as they stood on opposite ends of the small box. The man didn’t seem upset with Hak-yeon’s outburst earlier, smiling as he looked them over.

“You know, I don’t think I ever introduced myself. My name is Kim Won-shik. I’ll be in charge of you while we figure out what exactly makes you so important.” Sang-hyuk could barely hear what he said as he only stared at the small numbers continuing to go up, his stomach falling at the thought of how high up the building they were going. There would never be an escape, never a chance to run away. It was probably on purpose.

“Where are you taking us?” Hak-yeon asked instead, becoming the voice for the both of them.

Won-shik’s smile widened, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help shivering at the sight. “Well, let’s find out.”

Won-shik was moving the moment the elevator doors opened, both Hak-yeon and Sang-hyuk scrambling after him. With nowhere to go and nowhere to run, their only link to the life they knew stood in front of them, and they couldn’t afford losing him. They followed him until they reached a door at the farthest end of the hallway, the bright glow from the overhead lights doing nothing to lighten the mood. Won-shik pulled out the keys from his pocket before opening the door, swinging his arm out in an attempt to be inviting.

“This will be your new home,” Won-shik continued once they stepped inside, a hint of defeat in his voice grabbing both Hak-yeon and Sang-hyuk’s attention. “It’s not the best, and you’re not going to get anything better, but it’s still a roof over your head. This is where you’ll be staying from now on.”

“What do you mean ‘from now on’?” Hak-yeon asked, faltering. “I—you brought Sang-hyuk and I here, but you haven’t explained anything-”

“See, this is where you need to learn,” Won-shik said, his tone dropping dangerously as he stepped forward, Hak-yeon instinctively stumbling back. “You don’t have a say in anything, Cha Hak-yeon. You’re only here because of Sang-hyuk, and even that is not guaranteed. From now on, you won’t have to worry about school, work, or money ever again. Everything will be taken care of; all you’ll have to do is stay here and not get in the way. As long as you do that, you’ll be just fine.”

Sang-hyuk felt a fire burn inside him hearing the way Won-shik spoke to Hak-yeon, his arms wrapping protectively around Hak-yeon’s waist. He crushed him furiously, possessively, though even then couldn’t dare open his mouth to defend him.

“But the moment you try and do anything funny, we won’t hesitate to kill you. For your sake, just do as you’re told.” He waited until he was sure Hak-yeon wouldn’t speak again before turning to Sang-hyuk, ignoring the way the latter flinched under his heavy stare. “As for you, be ready tomorrow morning. I’ll be coming to pick you up at six. I have a key, so don’t think you can hide again.” He waved the key for good measure before waving them goodbye, leaving just as abruptly as he had appeared, and the sound of the door closing behind him nearly made Sang-hyuk’s knees buckle.

Hak-yeon caught him the moment he felt Sang-hyuk slipping, and they both fell onto each other in a desperate hug, neither knowing what to do or say. Any walls that may have been put up were gone completely, Sang-hyuk bawling unabashedly as Hak-yeon crushed his head into his shoulder, shushing him softly. Even after everything and having his life threatened, Hak-yeon did not cry, so strong as he only comforted Sang-hyuk.

Hak-yeon carefully brought them down to the floor, gathering Sang-hyuk into his arms and leaning against the wall. They stayed that way for the longest time, together in a strange new world that left no room or time to become acquainted, so lost with only each other for support. Sang-hyuk cried until there was nothing left, so exhausted he could barely breathe. Hak-yeon waited all the while, his hands so soft as they ran down his back, and Sang-hyuk shivered when he felt Hak-yeon lean down to press a kiss to the base of his neck, so light and warm. “Are you okay, baby?” he asked gently.

Sang-hyuk just shook his head, his voice lost, and Hak-yeon kissed him again.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

Sang-hyuk wrenched himself back, his chest heaving when Hak-yeon only looked at him confused. “Don’t promise me anything,” he muttered, his attempt at ordering only sounding like a small whine. “It’s my fault we’re here. I-I should be promising you.”

“Sang-hyuk, how could this be your-”

“I-it’s because of that stranger my father brought home.” Hak-yeon paused, frowning, and Sang-hyuk had to look away. “I…I went back to my father’s office that day…after you left. I’d just wanted to make sure he was okay. But then we started talking and I saw how lonely he was. He was lonely like me, and I…I wanted to be friends with him. I wanted…I wanted to be like you for him.” Hak-yeon’s hands had slowly trailed down to his, his fingers loosely catching onto his own, and he hiccupped.

“Those men…they worked with my father. They found out I talked with that stranger and…everything happened because of me. Hak-yeonnie…everything happened because of me.”

“No, it didn’t,” Hak-yeon said fiercely as he grabbed Sang-hyuk’s face in his hands, his touch both gentle and firm. There was a pain in Hak-yeon’s eyes that Sang-hyuk had no idea of describing, a pain caused by repressing and overcoming, and he began to cry again. Because of him, Hak-yeon was forced into a life where he was tethered to Sang-hyuk’s side forever, never able to go out and have a life of his own. He would never be able to go outside, see friends, find a job, find a girlfriend, have a _life_ —all because of _him._ Hak-yeon was supportive and kind now, but there was no telling what he was feeling inside, and it was all because he felt he had to help Sang-hyuk.

Because Sang-hyuk was _useless_.

Hak-yeon kissed Sang-hyuk’s forehead when he saw him spinning. “You did nothing wrong, Hyukkie. If those people worked with your father, then it’s _his_ fault. You did nothing wrong, you understand me? Nothing is your fault.”

“B-but they only spared me because they said he talked about me…they were going to kill me until they noticed. I-it’s because of me-”

“No, it isn’t, and I don’t want to hear you ever say that again, okay?” Hak-yeon smiled sweetly when Sang-hyuk sniffled, running his thumbs over Sang-hyuk’s lashes and drying his tears. He was always so loving, so much more than his own mother, and Sang-hyuk felt his heart bursting. His mother was dead, would never be able to ignore him or hide in her room again, and while she had been incredibly absent his whole life, he couldn’t help but feel responsible. Hak-yeon sighed when fresh tears trickled over his fingers, and he pressed another long, lingering kiss to Sang-hyuk’s cheek.

“Baby…it’ll all be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Sang-hyuk reveled in Hak-yeon’s warmth, shaking his head as he tried his best to stop crying. “But because of me…you…”

Hak-yeon laughed softly. “Don’t worry about me. Remember, I promised you that I would never leave you. You’re stuck with me.” A shaky smile finally appeared on Sang-hyuk’s lips, and Hak-yeon ruffled his hair. “There’s only one condition—you’re not allowed to get any taller, you hear me?” Sang-hyuk let out a snort, for just one second able to forget everything as he grinned freely, Hak-yeon smiling along with him. “If you get any taller, I won’t be able to hug you like this anymore. So don’t even think about it, got it?”

Sang-hyuk nodded indulgently, and for that moment the world seemed just the tiniest bit brighter, the feel of Hak-yeon’s lips on his own sending such warm waves down his body that he could do nothing but smile and wish time away.


	16. Unpaved

Sang-hyuk didn’t want to see Hong-bin.

There were too many things that had changed—and Sang-hyuk didn’t like change.

So many things from that day continuously filled his mind, keeping him to the point that not even Hak-yeon’s soothing fingers could calm him down. He purposefully drowned out the words spoken from Hong-bin’s lips, erasing his face until the only thing he could see in his memories were the blankets and how close their knees had been. He didn’t want to think of the way he had broken down, Hong-bin ripping layer after layer with an ease only he possessed, revealing secrets that destroyed the core of what Sang-hyuk had built to keep himself sane.

Sang-hyuk had truly believed he had erased whatever it was that he and Hong-bin had had, leaving a shell that he alone was left with the duty of filling. He believed he had done so without permission, regardless if he had been aware of the choice beforehand or not. That revelation had torn Sang-hyuk apart, leaving him such a mess that Hak-yeon had been terrified to leave him alone for months. It had taken him so long to emerge whole, scarred and battered but whole nonetheless, and it took him even longer before he was able to stand in front of Hong-bin without crying.

It had been a truly dark time that was stitched together with clumsy fingers and dark thoughts, becoming a constant weight on his shoulders that followed him everywhere.

To suddenly learn that it had never happened…

That Hong-bin had faked everything…

That Hong-bin remembered everything…

That he had bore that weight for nothing…

Luckily, Won-shik had kept his word and did what he could to help—Hong-bin was suddenly put up for skin tests that had originally been scheduled for next week, running all day. Nobody questioned and nobody mentioned; it seemed so normal that only Sang-hyuk noticed. He could never express how relieved it made him, the dread that had been building quickly melting away. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide forever, but to have even an extra second away was more than enough for him.

Sang-hyuk really didn’t want to see Hong-bin.

\--

“…Won-shik?” Sang-hyuk asked uncertainly as he poked his head into Won-shik’s office, unsure what to expect when he received the message to see Won-shik the moment he finished his duties for the day. He wasn’t surprised when all he found was Won-shik passed out in his chair, his head lolled to the side as his mouth hung open, snoring loud enough it could wake the dead. This had happened on more than one occasion, Sang-hyuk having learned not to be annoyed or worried as he walked over and rapped on the desk, holding back a smirk when Won-shik nearly screamed as he jolted awake.

“The _fuck_?” Won-shik rasped, looking around wildly before locking an obnoxiously heated glare on Sang-hyuk, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he straightened in his seat. “What the actual _fuck_ , Hyuk? You couldn’t give me five more minutes?”

Sang-hyuk fell into the opposite chair, leaning back languidly to hide the anxiety that continued to turn his stomach. Regardless of how Won-shik acted or said, there was only one reason Won-shik would be looking for him. He hadn’t seen Won-shik since the latter ripped him out of Hong-bin’s room mid-session, and while part of that might have been deliberate, he couldn’t help worrying for the underlying reason why. Won-shik had promised to talk to Joon-myeon for him, though there were so many possibilities of what they were going to do that Sang-hyuk couldn’t afford to relax.

“You’re the one who called me first,” he said with a smile, his mind going over every word to make sure it was okay.

Won-shik grumbled for a few more seconds as he fixed his hair and did his best to look presentable, groaning as he tiredly ran his hands down his face. He looked exhausted, and Sang-hyuk wondered if Won-shik ever went home. He always seemed to be at the lab, lurking in some corner and behind every shoulder; he wouldn’t be surprised if he had just moved to the downstairs bunkers for convenience.

“Hell…” he muttered, voice heavy with sleep, “who told you to finish so early? Felt like I just managed to fall asleep…”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Like I said. Early.” Won-shik rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes before he was alert once more, a sharpness in his gaze Sang-hyuk could only wish to achieve. He leaned back in his seat, rolling his head back and letting out a long sigh only for his eyes to flit down and meet Sang-hyuk’s, his tone careful. “I talked to Joon-myeon this morning.”

Sang-hyuk flinched, the reaction not going unnoticed, and he tried to cover it by shifting in his seat. “O-Okay. How…how did it go?”

“Well, you’re safe for another day, let’s say that.” Sang-hyuk’s fingers clenched the arm rests of his chair, his breath catching in his throat, and Won-shik matched his gaze. “He wasn’t exactly thrilled that you didn’t tell him about it, and he’s getting pretty annoyed that you’re consistently hiding things from him. He’s going to take the video to talk with the other higher ups about it, so I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

Sang-hyuk’s voice was broken, the words garbled as they fought to escape the lips that refused to let him breathe. “Do you think they’re going to shut him down? Or go after me or-”

“Hyuk, calm down.” Won-shik’s firm words helped ground Sang-hyuk somewhat, his chest releasing just enough he could finally breathe. “He’s annoyed, but not angry. He’s very impressed with how much X39 has changed in the past month—we all are. I have no idea what you’re doing differently or if you’re doing anything at all, but whatever it is, it’s working. You got both X39 and T52 actually responding, not to mention T52 actually able to remember enough between restarts to continue touching you. They’re not about to off you or Hak-yeon when you’re actually getting so much done. But, that being said…”

Won-shik leaned forward, casually pushing the coffee-stained papers and folders with his elbows so he could dramatically stare into Sang-hyuk’s eyes. It had the intended effect, Sang-hyuk freezing. “You can’t keep hiding things. I’ve warned you over and over again not to get attached—if you’re trying to hide things to protect them, you have to stop. There will always be someone new; all they’ll have to do is a couple wipes, put someone new in front of them, and they’ll eventually be doing the same thing you’re doing. As great as you are now, you have no real leverage to keep them from killing the both of you if you piss them off enough. Be careful, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed nervously as the weight of Won-shik’s words slowly sunk in, realizing the severity of the situation. As much as he liked to think of himself as somewhat important when Hong-bin and T52 would smile and greet him, he really was nothing more than a drone to these people. They didn’t care about the cyborgs mental state or stability. To them, the borgs could easily be reprogrammed to open up to anyone, and the humans were all easily replaceable. There was nothing keeping him here, nothing to convince the higher ups he was important enough to stay—and he had to remember that.

Won-shik waited until Sang-hyuk muttered out a soft promise, sighing softly. “Now get out of here. Go home and cuddle your Hak-yeon or whatever you two do at home.”

Sang-hyuk hesitated, glancing at the heavy bags under Won-shik’s eyes and the grease that seemed permanently caked into his hair. “…what about you?”

Won-shik blinked in surprise, genuinely taken aback. “What about me?”

“Aren’t you going home?”

Won-shik looked uncomfortable with the idea, fidgeting in his seat. “Oh, uh, I was going to go home later. No point hurrying, it’s not like I got anyone waiting for me.”

On any other occasion, Sang-hyuk would’ve bolted out of the room when Won-shik stared at him as if he sprouted another head, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but push. Won-shik had always prided himself with not having any family, thus not giving the higher ups any leverage over him. It was a smart idea, but it also left him without a reason to live, him never going home or eating unless ordered or if his body forced him. Sang-hyuk honestly had no idea how he did it; he would be nothing if he didn’t have Hak-yeon. Won-shik was much stronger than he was, yes, but even he had to go home and escape at some time.

“You’re the one that said spending too much time here will kill you. You should go home.” 

Won-shik opened his mouth in exasperation before snapping it shut, his lips pursing for the longest time before finally letting his shoulders slump in defeat. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He shook his head fondly with a smile, making it seem a great effort to stand up and grab his coat, his eyes playfully narrowed. “You know, I always knew you’d be a pain in the ass. You’re not proving me wrong.”

“Then my efforts aren’t in vain,” Sang-hyuk immediately retorted, one of the few times he didn’t let his mind overthink to try and snap back. Won-shik snorted loudly as he walked around the desk to slap him upside the head.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m _your_ idiot.”

“Unfortunately.” Won-shik pretended to shiver when they stepped out of his office, the only people still lingering the ones who never went home. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I went home and took a proper shower.” Sang-hyuk would _never_ let him know how often he would’ve forgotten to shower if Hak-yeon didn’t threaten to strip him naked, instead slapping on a disgusted face that had Won-shik roaring. “Don’t pretend you’ve never forgotten.”

“Not to the point I can’t remember the last time I was even in the bathroom.” He could hear Won-shik laughing, another retort already ready, but his attention was gone the moment he saw Sung-jae of all people passing them by, his eyes all over as if afraid someone would see him.

He frowned.

Since that day with Byul, Sung-jae hadn’t been the same. It was a subtle change. He laughed less, often staring into space with a dazed expression and his thoughts so deep he couldn’t hear a thing. He began to leave later and later, tending to hang about on the second floor after hours and hovering around the testing rooms. He stopped trying to make friends with the interns assigned downstairs, speaking only when necessary and avoiding them whenever possible. Sang-hyuk only noticed because he knew the reason why, and he hated that nobody else could see.

But today appeared far worse, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but be worried. While never having spoken to him directly, he had noticed Sung-jae being incredibly distracted and fidgety, constantly looking at the cameras and biting his nails. That seemed to be true even now, Sung-jae drawn in on himself and afraid, and that worried Sang-hyuk more than anything.

“Sung-jae!”

Won-shik stopped mid-laugh when Sung-jae’s head whipped around, eyes wide as if caught. Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure what could be bothering his friend to the point that _that_ was his reaction at his voice, and he wondered concernedly if Sung-jae had been planning on running off to drink again. It hurt that Sung-jae hadn’t thought to ask him, even after Sang-hyuk pleaded him to. He never wanted to see Sung-jae so far gone that Jae-hwan had to call him, to see him so bad he had to be helped home.

He tried to make the best of the situation, knowing scolding would only make Sung-jae shut down that much faster. “You going out to drink? Can I come?”

Sung-jae’s eyes widened even further, looking between him and Won-shik, and Sang-hyuk winced. He forgot Won-shik was with him. “I-I-” Sung-jae shivered before swallowing, his hesitation visible. “Yeah. You and Won-shik can come…if you want.” He could tell Sung-jae had no intention of inviting Won-shik, though both knew better than to not at least invite a superior. Even Sang-hyuk didn’t have the guts to deny Won-shik an invitation, so he turned with a smile and asked as casually as he could,

“We’re going out for drinks…do you want to come?”

Won-shik’s face had hardened throughout their short conversation, an apathy reserved for most people, though Sang-hyuk was surprised his face didn’t split in half from how widely he grinned at those words.

“Hell yeah, I would.”

\--

The bright smile Jae-hwan flashed them faltered when he saw Won-shik trailing behind them, though he quickly hid it behind a friendly wave. Sang-hyuk was the only one who returned the gesture, both Won-shik and Sung-jae immediately grabbing a seat and keeping their heads low. Sang-hyuk wasn’t oblivious to how the two grabbed seats far apart from each other, Sung-jae fidgeting and Won-shik looking bored out of his mind, and Sang-hyuk knew his place as he sat in the middle.

Jae-hwan noticed the heavy mood and carefully approached Sang-hyuk, his eyes flitting over the other two as he asked as casually as he could, “It’s been a while; how’ve you been?” Sang-hyuk was slightly confused at the other’s hesitant tone, only having ever seen Jae-hwan brazenly flirting or annoyingly friendly—only to wince when he remembered the harsh way he had crushed him the last time he’d been here. He didn’t know Jae-hwan well enough to know whether he was really hurt or not, though he did feel bad that he was so careful now.

“Sorry, been busy.”

Jae-hwan’s lips lifted slightly at that, his eyes darting back to Won-shik before continuing. “Is this a friend of yours?” Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened when he saw Jae-hwan turn his sunny smile to Won-shik, knowing how terrible the latter was when it came to talking to normal people, only to see Won-shik’s bored expression immediately change to embarrassing interest. Sang-hyuk inwardly cringed, readying for the worst.

Won-shik cupped his chin in his palm as his lips curled into a wide smirk, his eyes languidly running over Jae-hwan’s face. “You have a nice face. It’d be a shame if anyone touched it.” Nobody spoke as the loud base of the overhead music blared loudly, Jae-hwan’s eyes wide in surprise and Sang-hyuk ready to curl in a ball and die. Won-shik was completely pleased with himself, his eyes staring at Jae-hwan unwaveringly, and Jae-hwan coughed behind a growing smile as he ran a hand through his gelled hair.

“Well, I have to say I’ve never heard that one before. Thank you.”

“Your skin is nice too. Looks like you take care of it. I doubt there’s anything that could replace that.” Jae-hwan burst out laughing, and Sang-hyuk hissed embarrassedly as he slapped Won-shik’s shoulder, burying his face in his hands.

It wasn’t surprising hearing the ridiculous things coming out of Won-shik’s mouth, though being used to it didn’t mean it didn’t embarrass the hell out of him. Coming from a line of work where the only real human interaction they got was with coworkers, it wasn’t unusual for most people to be socially awkward. Sang-hyuk definitely was, Sung-jae was, and Won-shik, without a doubt, was too. But Sang-hyuk at least had Hak-yeon at home to talk to—Won-shik had no one, and it was at times like these when it showed.

“Why, thank you,” Jae-hwan finally managed, his face glowing against the heavy lights, his eyes sparkling, “I’m happy to know my hard work is appreciated.”  His face still bright with amusement, he turned back to Sang-hyuk, his voice laced with laughter. “You guys want the usual?” He gestured over the group of them, and Sang-hyuk turned to see Sung-jae, the latter having been so quiet he nearly forgot about him. He knew the other was still uncomfortable about Won-shik being there, so he quickly gave a quick nod to Jae-hwan before silently placing a supportive hand on Sung-jae’s arm. Sung-jae’s eyes flashed up to meet his, his bottom lip caught between his teeth before he looked away again.

Won-shik drew Sang-hyuk’s attention back when he scoffed loudly, turning in his seat to look around the bar, his eyes stopping over the hundreds of people pressed together. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a place like this. So noisy.” He turned back to Sang-hyuk, giving him a playful once-over. “You two come here often?”

Sang-hyuk glanced briefly at Sung-jae before putting up a shaky smile, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. Just once in a while.” His hand on Sung-jae’s arm tightened, hoping to distract Won-shik enough that Sung-jae could relax. “It’s close by.”

Won-shik looked entirely unconvinced, shaking his head amusedly. “Don’t have to lie, Hyukkie. Plenty of us end up getting shitfaced on some occasion or another, there’s nothing wrong about it. No need to be embarrassed.” He snorted when Sang-hyuk frowned, snickering at his narrowed eyes. “What’s so wrong with drinking? Your precious Hak-yeonnie not like it or something?”

Sang-hyuk’s jaw tightened at the familiar way he spoke Hak-yeon’s name. “It doesn’t matter what Hak-yeon thinks; Hak-yeon wouldn’t care. Don’t bring him into this.”

While the smile never left his face, Won-shik knew when to stop, nodding his head thoughtfully as his eyes glanced over to Jae-hwan still preparing their drinks. “You know,” Won-shik started, knocking his head back with his chin against his knuckles, his voice slow as if debating over each word, “you two have something special.” Sang-hyuk frowned at that, and Won-shik chuckled softly. “The kind of work we do is pretty fucked up, when you think about it. Most people don’t end up happy. Most can’t be. You have no idea how many people are envious of what you and Hak-yeon have.”

Sang-hyuk felt his mouth go dry at the sudden genuine words coming from Won-shik, jumping slightly when he felt Sung-jae’s arm tighten beneath his fingers. He honestly had no idea what he was supposed to say, blinking dumbly when Won-shik continued, his chin propped up and his eyes sharp. “A lot of people would’ve fucked over someone as sweet as Hak-yeon. It’s hard to have a happy family when doing the things we do.”

Sang-hyuk understood all too well, remembering the sounds of things crashing as his parents’ voices echoed in his ears, his body still reactive to the mere memory of his father’s harsh words.

“So, don’t get too upset. No one wants to touch Hak-yeon—we all enjoy seeing how happy the two of you make each other.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t have a chance to respond, not that he would know what to say, when Jae-hwan finally came back with their drinks, grinning obliviously as he placed Won-shik’s down last. Both Won-shik and Sang-hyuk cleared their throats as they turned away from each other, neither brave enough to speak with an outsider’s ears so close. Jae-hwan laughed when he saw their expressions, his hands on his hips and his cheeks pulled up in an easy smile. “Well, don’t you two make the perfect couple. Do I have something on my face or something?”

Won-shik was the first to recover, leaning forward and slowly running his finger over the rim of the glass, his smile cavalier. “Nothing but perfection.”

Jae-hwan laughed, seemingly more comfortable with Won-shik’s obnoxiously shameless praises, his eyes shining as he placed his arms over the counter and leaned forward. Sang-hyuk had never taken the time to look at Jae-hwan beforehand, only ever having seen him when worrying over Sung-jae, and was surprised to see how soft a face he had. Wide eyes, tall nose, carefree smile; his entire attitude and appearance was surprisingly innocent for someone working at a bar, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but wonder what kind of effect such a soft personality would have had with Hak-yeon. From what he had seen so far of the man, he was sure they would have made great friends.

“Why thank you! You know, I like you—you’re much better than those two. They’re always so serious.”

Won-shik chuckled, his posture purposefully casual as he took a sip of whatever drank Jae-hwan gave them, never looking away. His tone suddenly dropped, his gaze icy, though it seemed to be lost on the recipient. “Really? Do they come here often then?”

Jae-hwan tilted his head, not recognizing the tone that used to send shivers down Sang-hyuk’s spine. “Sang-hyuk doesn’t, no.” He sent Sang-hyuk a quick smile, his face bright and his teeth flashing. “Not that he drinks anything when he is here. Just comes to say hi.” He seemed to think whatever he said was funny, his head dropping as he laughed, and Won-shik’s brow furrowed, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

“You seem to know them pretty well, for someone who works in a busy club. Don’t you have other things to do, besides hanging around these two?”

Jae-hwan’s smile disappeared, finally noticing the change in tone and immediately pulling away, his fingers hanging loosely off the edge of the counter as he bit his lip. His voice was small. “I don’t mean to bother them…we have more than one tender, since it gets busy around this time.” Sang-hyuk could see Jae-hwan tremble the same way he used to under Won-shik’s strong gaze. “I only watch them because they tend to not go home…I just want to make sure they get home safe.”

Sang-hyuk could feel Sung-jae jerk next to him, and he turned to see Sung-jae with his head bent low, guilt all over his face. Concerned, he nudged him gently on the shoulder, waiting until he looked at him before wordlessly asking if he was okay. It took a long while before Sung-jae nodded, his attempt at a smile not reaching his eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Won-shik continued, his voice muffled as Sang-hyuk continued to try and get Sung-jae’s attention. “The work we do is hard. It’s not uncommon for our employees to become alcoholic.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Jae-hwan responded, the first time Sang-hyuk ever heard him serious.

“That’s rich, coming from a bartender,” Won-shik snapped right back, laughing mirthlessly. Sang-hyuk glanced over to see Jae-hwan visibly upset, his face flushed under the lights, though he couldn’t focus on that when Sung-jae reached over and tugged on his hand.

“Sung-jae-”

“Please don’t be so worried about me,” Sung-jae finally said, his eyes so sad, and Sang-hyuk could feel nothing _but_ worry. “I’m just tired. I’m tired every day.”

“Are you getting enough rest? If you’re having any problems-”

“Even if I am, what can I do?” Sung-jae’s voice dropped, looking over to Won-shik briefly before continuing in a soft whisper, “They’re already tearing her apart and changing her. No matter what I do, I’m not allowed near her. I can only read the reports of what they did and pray that she’ll come out okay. I…I can’t, Hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed, thinking over each word before speaking. “It wouldn’t matter…even if you were able to help her, you wouldn’t have any say over what they did. She’s not yours, and she’s not mine. She belongs to them. You can’t help.”

Sung-jae didn’t answer right away, downing his entire glass in one go, hissing satisfactorily that did little more than allow him to avoid. “I heard…they’re already thinking about replacing parts of her. They want to give her that new skin or whatever it is. It’s barely been a month; how can they think of already cutting her open?”

“Well…it makes sense. All the previous tests have been really successful. They probably want to get her feeling as soon as possible. Leaving her as is wouldn’t be practical.”

Sung-jae stared at him for the longest time, his expression clear at how much he didn’t like his answer. “I don’t know how you do it. Yours…its nowhere near human anymore. They’ve done so much and changed so much I don’t know how you can sit there and look at it without feeling like staring at the wall. I think about her becoming like that…and…” He didn’t wait for Sang-hyuk before reaching over and grabbing Sang-hyuk’s glass, downing it and blinking away the stars the flooded his eyes. “I’m terrified. The others were already mindless machines by the time we started; I’m scared of actually watching one turn.”

Sang-hyuk felt his jaw lock, his skin prickling at the feel of Hong-bin’s fingers ghosting over his skin, his chest clenching at the breathless smile T52 gave him when he discovered touch for the first time. Bright smiles, apathetic masks, unknowing terror; while they could no longer describe or understand the things they felt, they were still able to feel just as much as any person in this bar. They were no longer human, yes, but they were far from the mindless robots that everyone convinced themselves to believe. It was a fact Sang-hyuk hadn’t believed in a long time, and one that shook him to the core that he accepted again.

Sang-hyuk waited until their glasses were filled again, Jae-hwan still caught up with Won-shik, taking a deep breath. “Sung-jae…I can’t speak for everyone and I’m definitely not going to try and change your mind. But from what I do know, I can tell you that there’s more than what you are refusing to see. Regardless of what’s been done to them, they’re not mindless. They’re not defective nor even _close_ to a wall.” He quietly scooted his chair closer to Sung-jae, waiting until he was sure Won-shik wasn’t paying attention.

He leaned in close, the tips of his hair tickling Sung-jae’s chin, his breath coasting across the other’s neck. “I want you to think about this, without closing me out or ignoring me. When you talk about her, you refer to her as a person, giving her a name and acting as if she is still human. They already changed her, pumped her body with chemicals and wiped her clean. But when you speak of the others, you act like they’re objects, not worthy of the time or effort put into them. Your girl will eventually be just like them—what do you think is wrong with that?”  

Sung-jae was frozen as he spoke, his eyes wide when he finally pulled away. Sang-hyuk felt slightly guilty when he saw how shaken the other was, clearing his throat and trying to fix the situation. “I’m not accusing you of anything, I just…don’t put too much thought into it. She’ll be fine. It’s our job to make sure she’s okay. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

Sung-jae still didn’t speak, his eyes filled with something Sang-hyuk couldn’t even begin to describe. In the end he merely turned back to the counter and buried his face in his arms. Sang-hyuk pursed his lips as he could only imagine what was going through his friend’s mind, reaching over and patting his back gently. “Everything’ll be okay, Jae. I promise. Just…rest for now. We’ll figure it out.”

When Sung-jae made no move to respond, Sang-hyuk looked back over to see Won-shik and Jae-hwan still talking, both looking much more comfortable as Won-shik laughed casually and Jae-hwan’s whole face scrunched together from his smile. It was a strange sight to see, Won-shik with his hand cupped in his chin and listening so intently to whatever Jae-hwan was saying, his expression and posture so open and inviting. Sang-hyuk had never seen Won-shik like that, the latter always so guarded and distrusting, though he had an idea the alcohol had a part in that.

“You have such a pretty face. How the hell are you so young? I look older than you!”

Jae-hwan burst out laughing, so bright and happier than Sang-hyuk had ever seen him. Not that he had ever done anything to make Jae-hwan laugh. “I really am! Do you know how much work goes into this face? You better appreciate it!” He squeezed and wiggled his nose for good measure, and Won-shik lost it.

“Oh, I appreciate it alright. How someone as beautiful as you ended up as a fucking bartender I’ll never know. What a waste!”

Jae-hwan’s smile softened a bit as he filled up Won-shik’s glass again, sighing. “Not by choice, unfortunately. Tuition is a bitch. But a pretty face helps with tips.” He glanced at Sang-hyuk with a secret smile, snickering. “Trust me, I’m gonna use this face for all it’s worth.”

“Yes! You’re so fucking beautiful, it hurts.” Sang-hyuk hurriedly tugged on Won-shik’s arm and ripped the glass out of his hand, his face flushed down to his neck as Jae-hwan laughed. Won-shik whined and pushed at him, and Sang-hyuk could smell the alcohol all over him and wondered how much Jae-hwan gave him. “What are you doing, Hyukkie?”

“I think you drank enough. You should probably be getting home.”

“Why? There’s no one there waiting, I can stay as long as I want!”

Sang-hyuk sighed, purposefully avoiding Jae-hwan’s watchful eye. “Come on, you know you’ll hate yourself _and_ me in the morning. We can always come back if you really like it here.” Won-shik hesitated, a hint of clarity shining in his eyes, when the loud screeching of metal against tile jolted behind them. Sang-hyuk whirled around to see Sung-jae standing up with a determined look in his eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise, not noticing Won-shik grabbing his glass back. “Sung-jae?”

“I have to go,” Sung-jae said suddenly, turning to leave and only stopping when Sang-hyuk managed to move fast enough to grab his arm.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

Sung-jae shook his head, shaking his hand away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sang-hyuk could barely comprehend what he said before Sung-jae was gone, pushing through annoyed people and disappearing into the crowd. Sang-hyuk had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched him go, Sung-jae’s recent behavior too strange to assume he was just going home. He had a feeling his friend was going to do something dangerous, or stupid, and he had learned long ago to trust his gut. He couldn’t leave him alone.

He jumped to his feet as well, looking at the inebriated Won-shik with a grimace, turning to give Jae-hwan a hard stare. “Take care of him. Make sure he gets home.” He waited only to make sure Jae-hwan promised before running off.

 

Sung-jae was nowhere on the streets by the time Sang-hyuk stumbled out of the club, people shoving past him as he stood helplessly rooted to the spot. Where would he have gone? He honestly didn’t know much about Sung-jae outside of work, knowing nothing of his hobbies or interests or who he even liked to see. The only thing he did know was work, and while he wished it wasn’t true, he had a strong feeling the lab was likely where Sung-jae had run back to. His whole downward spiral had been because of Byul and her experiments—with alcohol and guilt running through him, what was he really capable of?

Few people were surprised to see him when he reentered the lab, only a couple giving him a second glance as he bypassed the lobby without logging in. There were only a few places Sung-jae had access to, though that didn’t mean anything. With how fixated he had been on the cyborgs, he wouldn’t be surprised if he did find him somewhere on the second floor.

He noted curiously a few technicians sprinting down the hallways, frowning at their concerned expressions as they passed him. He could only guess one of the cameras were down again, though he didn’t think something so trivial would make them so anxious. He saw them run into the records room, the sound of the lock clicking behind them, and he quickly forgot about it.

He didn’t spend too much time looking, not wanting anyone to actually get curious about why he was here. He avoided the testing rooms, knowing better than to go near any of the cyborgs. He had some level of clearance to be in the lab after hours, though he knew there would be questions and definite follow up if he went into a cyborg’s room without permission. He just hoped Sung-jae didn’t try and test that.

He pulled out his phone and checked to see if Sung-jae possibly sent him a message, frowning when there was nothing. He sent a quick message as he hurried to the rarely used stairs, fighting off the shivers that ran down his spine at the sight of the tubes lining the basement, the few scientists and interns working all looking up in surprise. He refused to meet any of their eye as he quickly scanned the room, hissing when he didn’t see Sung-jae anywhere. One of the other scientists, one Sung-jae had mentioned a couple times before—Il-hoon—came up to ask if he needed anything, and Sang-hyuk began to wonder if he was worrying for nothing. Sung-jae really could have just gone home, overworked and exhausted from the constant strain he had been putting himself under. Sang-hyuk could really be creating this whole mess on his own, and was wasting time for nothing.

He sighed for the umpteenth time as he gave a reassuring wave to the man, deciding it best to just go home. It was already so late—he was sure Hak-yeon was worried sick if he wasn’t already in bed. He still couldn’t shake the dread in the pit of his stomach, though he could also feel the familiar fear slowly creeping through his body. He hated being in the lab, only feeling a sense of relief when he was out and far away. Despite feeling like he should check on his friend, the desperation to escape and go home was much stronger, and he decided to just leave. He was sure Sung-jae wasn’t stupid enough to come back and do anything reckless, Sung-jae was smart.

He was just worrying for nothing.

That had to be it.

He didn’t waste any time getting out of there, feeling a great sense of relief when he stepped out of the building and was greeted with the crisp, early morning air. He could only imagine it was past one in the morning, the only people out being ones too drunk to realize the time, some hobbling past him with no sense of direction. He kept his head low as he made his way home, wanting to sleep as soon as possible, his eyes fixed on his feet as he walked. He could hear loud laughter, the sound of clanking glass and rough coughing mixed in between, and while he normally wouldn’t have paid any attention, at that moment he glanced up to see a startling sight. Two drunkards stood together as they laughed and drank from paper bags, their laughter seemingly targeting the man huddled at their feet. Feet bare, body naked save for a jacket hung over his shoulders, crouched into a ball against the wall—the man looked terrified as he kept his head buried in his knees.

Saddened, but not enough to stop and help, Sang-hyuk did his best to walk past them without attracting their attention—he screamed when something grabbed his shoulders, whipping his head around to see the same man suddenly on his feet, leering over him and holding him so tight and the street light shining over him—only for his mind to stop short when he noticed how familiar the man’s face was.

“T-T52?” he stuttered out, recognizing the wide, fearful eyes anywhere.

“Sang-hyuk,” T52 gushed, his eyes wide and terrified as his fingers dug even deeper into Sang-hyuk’s skin, “where am I? I was suddenly here and I do not know what to do. Is this another test? There were no instructions; I only recognized you.” His words were crisp and smooth despite what they meant, and Sang-hyuk could see the two drunkards watching them, their lips pulled down in heavy snarls. Sang-hyuk’s body moved instinctively as he quickly herded T52 away, not stopping until he found a narrow alleyway. He made sure to keep T52’s head down, waiting until he was sure no one was following them before speaking.

“Okay, T52, I need you to listen to me, okay?” He had no idea how long it would be until T52 restarted, not to mention how many times he already had since being out here, and knew time was of the essence. T52 nodded quickly, his fingers finding their way to grabbing any part of Sang-hyuk that he could, his hands trembling against the edges of Sang-hyuk’s jacket. “Do you know how you got out here?”

“No.”

“Do you know who you were with before you ended up here?”

“No.”

Sang-hyuk hissed, his heart hammering dangerously in his chest. “Okay. Your jacket—do you know who gave it to you?”

“No.”

“Do you have anything else with you?” T52 thought for a second before suddenly raising his right hand, revealing a small, folded piece of paper stuck to his palm. Sang-hyuk looked at it in surprise, carefully taking it.

              _Please help me. I can’t remember very well, and by the time you read this, I probably have_  
              _already forgotten how I got here. But please, help me run away. Don’t tell anyone where_  
_you found me—just please take me as far away as possible._  
  
_P.S. There will be about an hour before they realize I’m gone and the cameras are operating,_  
_so please be quick. Thank you._

The blood drained from Sang-hyuk’s face as everything suddenly made sense, remembering the technicians running around, their frantic concern now logical. But making sense didn’t mean he understood, and standing here with T52 in front of him, the latter holding onto him for dear life, made him realize the one thing that he couldn’t help but understand.

T52 was missing.

T52 had somehow escaped.

And that escaped experiment was currently with him.

It didn’t matter how he found him or that he had basically just stumbled across him. All that mattered in the end was that Sang-hyuk was with an escaped cyborg; even if he went right back and turned him in, there was a high probability that he would be killed. The higher ups would never chance letting an easily replaceable employee continue working with the knowledge that it was possible for a cyborg to escape. If anything, they would kill him and use him as an example for everyone else. At that point, it wouldn’t matter how much headway he’d been making with Hong-bin or the cyborgs in general. The moment he stepped back into that lab, he would be signing his death warrant, along with Hak-yeon’s…

…and he would never do that.

Sang-hyuk looked up to see T52 in the middle of restarting, and he waited until he was lucid before speaking. “Alright, T52, I want you to listen to me very carefully. I’m going to take you somewhere, and I want you to follow me. Don’t worry about where we’re going, I’ll explain later. I promise you’ll be safe, okay?”

“I understand,” T52 said without hesitation, and Sang-hyuk could almost hear the trust in his voice.

Never had Sang-hyuk been so thankful to have his apartment so close to the lab than then, his hand held firmly around T52’s as he shoved him into the elevator. T52 blinked innocently at him, not a hint of suspicion on his face as he held Sang-hyuk’s hand, the hood of his jacket draping over his face. Never in his wildest dreams would Sang-hyuk think he would ever be in such a situation, bringing a cyborg home and willingly letting that cyborg near Hak-yeon. But here he was, with T52 trusting him completely as he let him take him wherever he wanted to go.

He had no idea how long he had until the cameras were working again, and wasted no time running down the hall and whipping open the door with a quick turn of the keys. The place was dark, Hak-yeon no doubt asleep, though Sang-hyuk had no time to think about that. He immediately drew T52 to the bathroom, knowing it was the only safe place without a camera inside. He could hear T52 trying to ask questions, chairs scratching against the floor and loud thumping against the wall as they stumbled through the apartment, but he didn’t stop until the bathroom door was open and T52 was shoved inside.

Sang-hyuk was heaving by the time he turned on the lights, T52 standing in wait without a hint of exhaustion, waiting patiently for him to give instructions. He frantically grabbed one of Hak-yeon’s morning letters he left around the house and pulled a pen off a nearby corner table, scribbling as fast as he could speak.

“Okay, T52, I need you to stay in here for now. I’m going to figure out what to do, and I’ll come right back. In case you restart, I’m going to leave this here so you can remember. Okay?” T52 frowned but responded accordingly, his eyes sharp as he watched Sang-hyuk stick the note to the door.

He barely shut the door when he heard his name shouted behind him, and he spun around to see all the lights on and Hak-yeon waiting for him, his whole face flustered. His chest was heaving as if _he_ was the one to have just run a marathon, and he looked ready to burst into tears. “W-what?” Hak-yeon finally managed, his eyes running over Sang-hyuk’s face searchingly. “What happened? What’s wrong? I woke up to hearing you banging your way through the place—are you okay?”

“H-Hak-yeon…” Sang-hyuk whimpered, the weight of everything that had happened—from Won-shik’s warning, the whole mess at the bar, fucking finding T52 and realizing everything was going to shit—fell on him, and he collapsed to the floor. Hak-yeon was by his side in an instant, his warm hands around his cheeks as he called his name repeatedly, his voice so full of worry. Sang-hyuk felt tears rush down his cheeks at the sound, wishing his whole world could be of Hak-yeon’s voice alone, the soothing effect of Hak-yeon’s voice covering his body in a blanket of relief that he knew he couldn’t afford to feel. “H-Hak-yeonnie…”

“Oh my god, Sang-hyuk, baby, what’s wrong? Baby, talk to me, please. What’s wrong?” Hak-yeon was so worried, his body so warm; Sang-hyuk didn’t deserve to feel such unconditional love. All he had ever given Hak-yeon in return was pain and suffering—even now, with T52 in the bathroom and his life now hanging by a thread, he had basically promised Hak-yeon an early grave.

“Yeonnie…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What? Why? Hyukkie, please, talk to me. I don’t understand. What’s happening? Is someone coming after you?”

“I can’t…I don’t know if they’ll hear…I’m just so sorry…”

“Sang-hyuk, you’re not making sense-”

“The bathroom…what I’ve done…” He finally took a deep enough breath to control his sobs, lifting his trembling hands to take Hak-yeon’s in his own. Hak-yeon quieted down as he waited for Sang-hyuk to collect his thoughts, his face still desperate and afraid, and Sang-hyuk hated himself. He hated that he brought him nothing but pain. “I…I’m sorry.” His legs shook as he clambered to his feet, and Hak-yeon was thankfully silent as he led him to the bathroom, taking a slow breath before opening the door.

Hak-yeon’s hand twitched when T52 stood right where Sang-hyuk left him, the jacket now on the floor and leaving him completely naked. He could already hear questions on Hak-yeon’s lips and he immediately shut the bathroom door. He wasn’t sure how much could be heard from the living room speakers, and he hoped they were still down.

He hoped.

“Who is this, Han Sang-hyuk?” Hak-yeon asked, his voice flat as he stared firmly at T52. Sang-hyuk flinched, unable to look at him as he kept his eyes on the floor.

“This…he’s from my workplace. He…was one of the people my father worked on.” That caught Hak-yeon’s attention, disbelief on his face, and Sang-hyuk shook his head. “I know it sounds weird, but it’s the truth. He…he somehow got out, but I can’t take him back. If he goes back…I’m not sure he’ll be okay.” He couldn’t tell him how they would all be killed if he did. Hak-yeon had no idea the extent to what his job entailed, and he would never know. “So, I brought him here for now. I’m not supposed to, so I have to figure out a way to take him back without being found out. But I’ll figure everything out, I promise.”

‘I promise’…it was something he had been saying a lot today, and he didn’t think he could keep a single one of them.

Hak-yeon’s face was hard as he shook his head, his hands grasping at his hair as if to try and wake himself from a bad dream. “W-what? W-what the _hell?_ What do you mean, ‘not supposed to’? Are you going to get in trouble for this? What is he supposed to be that you could get in trouble? What were you _thinking?_ ”

“I’m sorry. I know it sounds like bullshit and it probably looks like it too, but I promise he’s harmless. I just,” he pulled out the crumpled note from his pocket, handing it over and letting Hak-yeon read it on his own, “I don’t want anything to happen to him. He’s a little naïve, so I have to help him or he won’t know what to do.”

Hak-yeon’s face was decidedly blank as he read the note, and T52 took the moment of silence to tug on Sang-hyuk’s arm. “Sang-hyuk, has my appearance here caused you to have trouble? I did not mean to cause such a problem. I am sure if you call Moon-hyuk, he will be able to take me back.”

“No, I promise you did nothing wrong,” Sang-hyuk reassured, patting his arm and watching the way the other’s body subconsciously reacted to the touch. His skin was still new, still sensitive, and looking at his feet, he wondered belatedly how T52 must have felt running with his skin bare against the cold, dirty sidewalk. “We’re just talking. You’re fine.”

“Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon said quietly, the note crushed in his hand, “how long do you plan on keeping him here?”

“I don’t know. I have to figure out the situation at work first to see when it would be safe to take him. He’s very special, so they’re going to be looking for him.” He placed a gentle hand on T52’s elbow, biting his lip as he finally managed to look Hak-yeon in the eye. “I’m sorry for asking this of you. I would never have brought him here if I had anywhere else to take him. He’s really sweet and gentle, and he won’t be a bother, I promise. At most he’ll just need someone to talk to at times. He can get lonely.” He saw Hak-yeon frown, and turned to see T52’s face fall slack as he reset, and he winced.

“I’ll try to see if they can get the cameras turned off at night, but for now he has to stay in the bathroom. If he steps out of the bathroom at any time right now, they’ll know and they’ll take him away. So please keep him in here. Can…can you do that, Yeonnie?”

“I…” Hak-yeon ran a hand through his hair, thankfully not catching onto the fact that their apartment was bugged. There were so many things Sang-hyuk realized he had kept hidden from his friend, and he dreaded the day he would ever have to tell. “Okay. I still have a lot of questions, but if he really needs help, of course I’ll help. But you have to promise me that you’ll be okay. You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?”

Sang-hyuk slapped on the fakest smile he had ever given, even laughing as he felt T52 come to beside him.

“I promise.”


	17. Reacquaint

Since the day Sang-hyuk cried, a new person began to visit his room.

T52 did not visit every day like Sang-hyuk did, nor did he stay very long when he did. T52 did not speak much, only giving occasional grunts when asked certain questions, and he never looked him in the eye. He did not seem very nice, nothing like Sang-hyuk, and he did not understand why Sang-hyuk wanted them to become friends. It did not seem like T52 wanted to be there; the only reason he continued to try and talk with his occasional visitor was seeing the wide smiles Sang-hyuk would give when he saw them, loving the sound of his praises.

But he had promised Sang-hyuk, so no matter how T52 appeared to dislike being with him, he was determined to be friends. He wanted to hear Sang-hyuk tell him how proud he was.

He straightened in his seat when the door opened, already aware that it was T52 and preparing himself with the appropriate facial expression that would please him. He had long discovered the time T52 would come; always before Sang-hyuk and not long after the lights turned on. There was nothing to base the time on when there were no clocks or other signifiers of passing time, and his perception depended on the lights and visitors alone. But this did not cause any problems since there was nothing required of him when alone, and this was the same when T52 carefully stepped into the room.

T52 was beautiful; it was a thought that passed through his mind every time the man stepped into his room. Since T52 started visiting, he began to compare himself in the same way he compared himself to Sang-hyuk, an action that did little more than remind himself of how lacking his body was. Both T52 and Sang-hyuk had light skin, a color that highlighted how dark his own was. T52 had large, shining eyes and dimples that decorated his cheeks; Sang-hyuk had mentioned numerous times how handsome T52 was, and it could not help but wonder why it was given such a face that Sang-hyuk could never say the same about him.

T52 kept his eyes on the floor as he silently shut the door behind him, his face expressionless as he walked to the bed. He made sure to smile widely when the man was close enough, keeping his hands on his knees as he greeted, “Hello, T52.”

T52’s eyes flitted up to his face, his lips pursing as he nodded his head, slowly settling himself into Sang-hyuk’s chair. While he had not been happy initially when T52 first sat in Sang-hyuk’s chair, he learned to accept it when Sang-hyuk told him it was okay. He waited silently as the man fell still, unsure of what to say that would hopefully be able to grab his attention. He still struggled with starting a conversation on his own, Sang-hyuk always the one to lead the conversation, and T52’s constant silence did not help.

Eventually, “It has been a while since you have visited.” T52 grunted, a usual response. It was not one that helped in any way, and it had absolutely no idea what to say. He instead watched how T52’s eyes were continuously moving, looking from the floor to the bed before looking back down again. His fingers were constantly shifting, gripping at the edges of his shirt before sliding down to rub at the turn of his knees, his hands smooth as they ran back up to grab his shirt again. His shoulders were just as uncertain, tightening with every second. He took all these bodily movements into account, aware of how Sang-hyuk moved the same way when upset, and settled his face into a small frown. 

“Do you not want to see me?”

“What?” T52 finally looked up, finally meeting his eye as his body fell completely still. He did not know whether the surprise was because he had guessed incorrectly or not, though he did notice that it was the first time T52 had spoken to him directly. When T52 did nothing beyond stare at him, his eyes wide and his body so still, he wondered if he had made the man angry, unable to read his facial expressions as well as he could Sang-hyuk’s.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you. I only made the assumption because you always appear unhappy when you are here. I am sorry if I was wrong.”

T52 finally shook his head, his hands the only part of him that relaxed as they slowly reached out to grab his own. He could feel his right hand jolt underneath the man’s touch, his skin prickling at the realization that someone other than Sang-hyuk was touching him. His body knew Sang-hyuk, able to recognize every fold and wrinkle in his skin. While the rest of the world still made his body uncomfortable with the amount of stimuli it would send, Sang-hyuk never gave him anything other than comfort.

But T52 was different. His skin did not feel as coarse as Sang-hyuk’s, having none of the hardened wrinkles that ran over Sang-hyuk’s knuckles. There were no chips in his nails, no indicators he chewed on them the way Sang-hyuk did. There was only softness, a softness he felt only when feeling along his own skin. Their skin felt the same, and it was a realization he did not understand.

“No…no, I would never think that,” T52 said, his voice low and quiet. It was so different from Sang-hyuk’s, so smooth and heavy, and he began to recognize those qualities as T52 himself. “I…I did not mean for you to have those thoughts. I always come here with the intention of seeing you.”

He could feel his whole arm shudder as T52 continued to run his thumbs over the back of its hands. He was not sure whether he liked the feeling or not, but there was a kind of familiarity that came with his touch, and it was that familiarity that kept him from pulling away. “I understand.” He looked up to see T52’s eyes down again, unable to look him in the eye. “Is it because of my face?”

“What?” T52’s hands tightened around his own, and he hissed. T52’s hands loosened immediately, though he still stared at him with furrowed brows and a tight frown. He realized he had made him angry, recognizing the same angry features that would appear when Sang-hyuk felt the same.

“I did not mean to make you angry, I am sorry.” He waited until T52’s face relaxed, watching to make sure the wrinkles in his forehead were gone. “I noticed you are unable to look at my face. Sang-hyuk had the same difficulty when he first saw me. He could not look at me without crying.”

T52’s eyes were wide as he spoke, his lips parted slightly before shaking his head fiercely, tugging on his hand until their faces were only inches apart. He did not know what the other was doing or what he was supposed to do, and could only stare as he waited to see what was expected of him. “No, do not think that. There is nothing wrong with the way you look. You have a beautiful face. You are beautiful. If anyone tells you otherwise-” His voice stopped midsentence, his eyes glazing over as his mouth fell slack, and it finally was able to relax as it knew what to do.

He fumbled with peeling T52’s hands away, settling him back in the chair, one hand on the back of his head to keep it from knocking back. This had happened to T52 on numerous occasions, and Sang-hyuk had instructed him to be careful and help him until he woke up again. He told him not to worry and that he would be fine until then, but he had to make sure he did not hurt himself.

It was not long until T52’s eyes flashed awake, taking only a few seconds before he shot up in his chair, his hands immediately shooting out and grabbing its own, pushing himself forward so he was just as close as before. His gaze was hard, his brow furrowed, and it blinked back curiously. “I will kill them myself.” He realized T52 was only finishing his previous sentence, and he nodded back when he deduced it to be the best response.

“You do not need to worry. Only Sang-hyuk and Seok-jin come to see me. Neither of them would say that to me.” He did not tell of the many times Sang-hyuk complimented him, of how he described him as ‘amazing’ or ‘beautiful’. Those words were for him alone, and he did not want to share them with anyone.

T52 eventually let go when he was finally reassured, his hands twitching in his lap once again as he sat back in his chair. It did not seem right to see T52 so upset, finding such a response to his observations unexpected. T52 acted like himself in many aspects, though when it came to reacting strongly with over-expressive faces and heavy voices, he was so much more like Sang-hyuk. While he found the reaction odd, a part of himself wished he could understand and feel the same.

“Your name,” T52 said suddenly, his eyes trained on their feet and his hands clenched around his shirt, “what do they call you?”

“My name is Y21.” The first thing Sang-hyuk taught it. Words that he would never forget.

T52’s jaw locked, the sound popping, and he wondered what he was feeling for such a thing to happen. “I cannot call you that.”

“That is fine.” At this point they were sitting as mirrors of each other, each with their backs straight and their hands on their knees, heads held high and their eyes unblinking. It was strange to see, him so used to Sang-hyuk and the natural way his back would slouch as he sat, or how he would tilt his head when thinking. Even Seok-jin had quirks to the way he moved, his one eye tending to blink more than the other, his fingers clumsy as they worked to feed him. But T52 had none of these, each movement steady and his body moving with the stiffness of water.

The door opened before either of them could think of anything more to say, and his lips pulled up the moment he saw Sang-hyuk step through the door. He did not see the way T52’s lips pursed at his reaction, only focused on the bright smile Sang-hyuk sent him.

“Hello Y21!” Sang-hyuk paused when he saw T52 sitting in his chair, his surprise quickly hidden behind an even wider smile. “And hello, T52. Are you two having fun?”

He opened his mouth to answer when T52 suddenly stood up, his head down as he shoved past Sang-hyuk and left, the door shutting behind him. Neither were surprised; T52 never stayed when Sang-hyuk came, and he was never able to look at Sang-hyuk when they were together. He believed that was just how they were, and he had no reason to question it.

Sang-hyuk did not wait to come over and sit in his chair, his hands immediately moving out to cup its face and shake his cheeks, a touch he desperately wished he could feel. Sang-hyuk loved to touch his face, always holding his cheeks and brushing his eyes. He wanted to feel it. He wished Sang-hyuk would let them replace more of his body, but he did not want to see Sang-hyuk cry again.

“How is my Y21?” Sang-hyuk asked, his smile wide and his teeth showing. He watched how Sang-hyuk’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, every facet another detail he memorized. It was not often that Sang-hyuk was this happy, and he made sure to paint each second into his memory. “Are you and T52 becoming friends?”

“I do not know. He says he comes to see me, but I am not sure if he enjoys being here. He does not smile like you.” 

Sang-hyuk paused, his mouth open for a second before swallowing, the brightness in his eyes gone. “That…that’s just how T52 is. Believe me; he really loves coming here. He always looks forward to coming and seeing you.” He had no reason to disbelieve anything Sang-hyuk said, nodding appropriately so that Sang-hyuk would not continue to frown. It worked, a softer smile falling on Sang-hyuk’s lips. “I’m so happy you two are getting along. He’s treating you alright, right?”

He hesitated answering, unsure what exactly Sang-hyuk was asking of him, and Sang-hyuk realized that, quickly pulling back. “Ah, sorry. He is not bad to you, is he?”

“No, he is not.”

Sang-hyuk smiled again. “That’s good. As much as I want you two to be friends, if he ever hurt you, I would never allow him back here again.” Sang-hyuk took that moment to begin the daily tests, reaching out and grabbing his arm, checking the joints and feeling up and down the limb. He followed along, keeping a close eye on Sang-hyuk’s hands to make sure he was ready, doing his best to match the other’s motions. Sang-hyuk laughed at him, ruffling his hair before continuing. “You’re so cute. What kind of things do you two talk about?”

He did not know what kind of implications Sang-hyuk was insinuating with such a comment, and instead answered what he could understand. “I asked if he did not like seeing me. But he reassured me that he does not mind.”

“That’s great,” Sang-hyuk said, his hands sliding down to its waist. “Did he tell you any stories?”

“No.” He waited until Sang-hyuk was lifting his shirt, his fingers running over the expanse of his stomach, before adding, “He said that my face is beautiful.” Sang-hyuk froze, the shirt slipping from his fingers, and he was surprised when he looked up at him with wide eyes. When he saw Sang-hyuk’s face grow sad, he asked, “Was he not allowed to tell me? I am sorry, he only said so in response to what I told him. Do not be angry at him.”

Sang-hyuk shook his head quickly, purposefully avoiding his eye as he went back to finishing the tests. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you’re okay with it, he can tell you anything he wants.” Sang-hyuk picked up his leg, his gaze locked on the hand hovering over his thigh. “What…what did you tell him, that he said you were beautiful?”

“I asked if my face was the reason he could never look at me.”

Sang-hyuk took a moment to breathe, his whole body shuddering when he was finally able to release his breath. His eyes were rimmed red when he looked up, but his smile so sweet. It was a feat he truly believed only Sang-hyuk was capable of. “T52 never lies, so if he said so, then it’s the truth.” He reached out again to take its good hand, making sure to be gentle. “You two will be wonderful friends, I know it. So please, don’t be afraid to talk to him. I would never let him be here if I didn’t know he would only treat you right.” He lifted his hand to press a gentle kiss to his fingers. “Will you give him a chance?”

He could barely hear Sang-hyuk’s voice over the ringing in his ears, focused on the feel of Sang-hyuk’s lips. They were soft, leaving a small trace on his knuckles.

“I will.”

 

When the lights turned on the next time, he was not alarmed to find himself without clothes. There were many times when he awoke to find his clothes missing, though after the first time Sang-hyuk reassured him that he would always bring them back. Sang-hyuk never did tell him where they were taken or why, but he never asked, and thus only waited until they were returned. So, without wasting a second, he stood up and opened the desk drawer, finding the neatly folded shirt and pants inside.

It had taken many tries, with and without Sang-hyuk’s help, to learn how to clothe himself, and with clumsy fingers he was able to slide his feet through the pant legs, each stumble causing him to fall onto the bed. He relied on his good hand to feel the buttons, his fingers dexterous as they pulled the small zipper up. Sang-hyuk had offered to bring him easier pants to wear, but it had not missed the way Sang-hyuk’s eyes had lit up the day he wore these specific clothes, and he was determined to wear them forever.

He did not want to change.

He was in the middle of struggling through putting his shirt on when the door opened, and he poked his head through the collar to see T52 frozen at the door, one hand on the doorknob, his eyes wide. He did not know why he felt uncomfortable under the stare, quickly finishing and averting his eyes.

He could hear the door slowly shut, the following silence long enough he finally looked to see T52 still at the door, though his face was now blank. He wanted to apologize, deciding the most probable reason for T52’s reaction being discomfort, though was unsure how to begin such a conversation. Was he uncomfortable with seeing it unclothed? He was not sure how others viewed such things, his only knowledge being Sang-hyuk’s uneasiness when seeing him as so. He fingered the edge of his shirt, the thin fabric soothing against his skin.

“Your clothes…” T52 finally said, his voice low and clear, “…did Sang-hyuk give them to you?”

“Yes,” he said, unable to lie. T52 gave a small smile at that, finally moving as he walked over to him, stopping only inches away.

It was the first time he had ever seen the other so close, T52 always keeping himself at a distance. Now so close, he was able to see certain details in the other’s body and posture that he could not before. He could now see T52’s skin seemed to be connected in patches, some parts of his neck darker than others, his whole face a completely different shade than the rest. The dimples he had always noticed were prominent only because of how sunken his face was, his eyes ringed with faint circles. The hair he had always assumed was messy like Sang-hyuk’s was because patches were missing, some curls longer than others to try and cover them. T52 appeared to be in a much worse shape than Sang-hyuk ever had, and he could not understand why he felt sad at the sight.

T52 smiled, reaching out and grabbing its wrist, his eyes sparkling as his fingers slowly slid up his arms. He wanted to watch to make sure he could see where exactly T52 was touching him, but he found himself unable. Instead, he was momentarily distracted by the way T52’s sunken cheeks seemed to disappear, his lips pushing them into small bundles that lit up his face. He was distracted by the way T52 tilted his head, the bald patches hidden by the way his hair bounced and floated around him. He could not look away from how T52’s teeth flashed from behind his lips, for a second filling him with a sense of comfort that not even Sang-hyuk had given him.

At that moment, he was distracted by how _beautiful_ he was. It did not matter how often he and Sang-hyuk tried to convince him; T52 was more beautiful than he could ever attempt to be, and he had no interest in trying to change that.

“You feel just as before. They have not touched you yet. You are still everything I remember.”

He caught onto the other’s words, copying the frown Sang-hyuk had taught him. “Did you know me before?”

T52 did not answer his question, continuing as if he had never spoken. “You cannot feel this, can you?” There was a trace of emotion in his voice that he could not place, a crack that indicated he was feeling more than his face could express. He watched how T52’s gaze slowly lowered down to where his hands hung loosely at its waist, a low chuckle emanating through his chest as his fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt. “Even if I tore into your skin and forced you to bleed, you would feel nothing, would you?”

“I do not understand.”

T52 shook his head, both of them watching as his hands carefully loosened. “Do not worry, there was no answer. It was only an observation.” He finally looked up to meet his eye, smiling again. He found himself unable to not reciprocate such an expression. “I am sorry that I have been distant; I did not mean to make you think I did not enjoy your presence.” T52’s hands were suddenly by its face, his actions uncertain as he slowly ran through his hair. “I am ready now. Would you like to be friends?”

He nodded. “Yes. I want to be friends.”

T52’s teeth flashed. “Then let us be friends.”

The last word was barely off his lips when his body stiffened, his eyes glazing over in a way that he recognized. He wrapped his arms around T52’s chest before his body collapsed to the floor, his movements uneven as he dropped him onto Sang-hyuk’s chair, sitting back on the bed and waiting for him to reawaken. It was not long, T52’s eyes fluttering open and taking a few seconds before he realized where he was, sitting up abruptly. “Where—what…” He shook his head, holding his head in his hands. “What were we talking about?”

He did not waste time, reminding him, “We are friends.”

T52 did not move for a long time, staring at him before laughing happily, bouncing in the chair, “Yes, yes we are! I am very happy to be friends with you.” T52’s demeanor was different than anything he had seen before, the man laughing as he tucked his legs underneath himself. Every part of him was moving with his eyes trained solely on him. “Sang-hyuk has been constantly telling me to be friends. I wanted to, but I was too scared to ask you. I am very happy you are not angry at me.”

He could feel a smile grow on his lips despite not having any reason to do so, and felt his fingers tremble at the strange sensation coursing through his body. He was not sure what about T52 was causing him to feel this way, but he found that it was not a negative response. “I have no reason to be angry at you. You did not hurt me.”

“It is not just hurting.” T52 looked around the room, humming. “Your room looks just like mine. That is sad.”

“How is it sad?”

“I do not know. I only know that is what Sang-hyuk says when he tells me.”

“Does Sang-hyuk visit you too?” He did not know why he did not like the idea of Sang-hyuk seeing others beside himself, and knew he should not think such things. But he could not help wondering if the reason Sang-hyuk would be gone for long periods of time was because he was seeing other people, such as T52. He did not like that at all, and the sudden, vicious wish for Sang-hyuk to only visit him began to grow.

“Yes. He comes after he sees you.” T52 shifted in his chair again, bringing his knees up to his chest and letting his toes clasp onto the edge of the chair. He noticed the other tended to shift a lot depending on his mood, his movements much more casual the brighter he appeared. “Sang-hyuk talks about how he wants our rooms to look different. I do not know exactly what he means by that, but he mentions it a lot.” He slapped its knee, something Y21 would not know had happened if he had not seen. “Hey, have you met X39 yet?”

“X39?” Was there another one? Did he get to see Sang-hyuk too? The fingers of his good hand clutched at the hem of Sang-hyuk’s favorite shirt. He thought to the many times Sang-hyuk smiled with tears in his eyes, speaking so much of how beautiful and amazing he was. He repeated the words in his head, reminding himself of how Sang-hyuk continuously told him how important he was. When Sang-hyuk was his world, he depended entirely on Sang-hyuk appearing and reassuring it of its importance. But if there were others that Sang-hyuk visited, did he say the same thing to them? Did he tell T52 how beautiful and important he was? Did he tell X39 how amazing he was?

What did that make him?

T52 nodded, though his smile lessened slightly. “Ah, you probably would not. He is special; I do not think they would let him out even if he wanted to. I only get to come see you because they do not care about me.”

“Is X39 special to Sang-hyuk?” He did not care about any others—they did not exist in his world, and thus were only characters in a story Sang-hyuk had not yet read to him. Sang-hyuk was all that mattered.

“He is very special. X39 was Sang-hyuk’s first cyborg. Sang-hyuk works with him the most.”

His hand fell away from Sang-hyuk’s shirt, his eyes looking down to his feet and staring at the hem of his pants. Amazing, smart, beautiful, wonderful…those were words Sang-hyuk would say, but suddenly they did not ring the same. He had come to associate those words with Sang-hyuk’s hands touching his face, holding him close and smiling with tears in his eyes. He had learned that all of that encompassed the word ‘affection’, and had thought the affection Sang-hyuk had showed him was only for him, similar to the way the Prince had looked at Cinderella.

But Sang-hyuk did not feel the same. T52 and X39 were just as amazing and smart, were just as beautiful and wonderful. Sang-hyuk spoke to them and treated them with the same time and affection that he did for Y21. Everything T52 said seemed to counteract what Sang-hyuk had been telling him, and he began to wonder the validity of those things. He knew Sang-hyuk would never lie, but he was not able to fully understand the facts that he had been given until now.

He looked up to see T52’s eyes glazed over, his head lolled to the side, and he waited patiently for the other to wake up. He did not know if he wanted to learn any more about the things Sang-hyuk did when not with him, and hoped T52 forgot when he awoke.

T52 blinked when he came to, noticing him immediately and smiling. It was nice seeing him smile instead of the blank look he would give him, and it helped make the strange thoughts go away. “We are friends,” he said.

“Yes.”

T52 looked him over. “Seeing you like this is strange. You look the same, but everything is different. You are so pale, and your eyes are so smooth. They emptied you.” T52 tilted his head, frowning. “You should not look like me.”

His eyes narrowed at those words, matching T52’s expression as he began to understand. Those words, said to him after Seok-jin gave him the needle— “T-52-”

T52’s whole body jolted, his feet slamming to the floor as his whole back straightened, his eyes flashing blue and his teeth showing from how deep his frown was. “Do not call me that.” He did not know how to respond to such a reaction, and T52 continued, nothing in his expression lessening. “I do not want to hear your voice say that name again.”

“I am sorry.” It was the only thing he could think to say that would not make the situation any worse. When he saw T52’s shaking hands calm at his apology, he added, “What would you like me to call you?”

“I want you to call me what you did before.” He waited, his eyes searching as if waiting for him to speak or remember something it could not. His silence did not seem to be what he had wanted, T52’s shoulders falling when he did nothing to answer. “I want you to call me Hong-bin.”

“…Hong-bin?” he asked, finding the name strangely familiar. He had never heard Sang-hyuk or Seok-jin mention the name before, and could not understand why he would think so.

“Yes. Sang-hyuk will more than likely try to convince you that X39 is Hong-bin, but he does not know. I am the real Hong-bin. So, I want you to call me that.”

He was hesitant. “But if Sang-hyuk does not agree-”

“Sang-hyuk does not agree because he does not believe me. I am not able to explain why I know X39 is not Hong-bin, so he does not believe me. I cannot remember because they wiped me, but I know that it is not true.” He reached out and grabbed Y21’s bad hand, placing it on his own cheek and holding it there, closing his eyes and falling silent. Y21 only stared, unsure what to do or say as the other reveled in something he could not understand, watching as T52 shifted so his lips were pressed against his palm.

“I _know_ it is true, so please, will you at least call me that?”

It could see no other reason to deny the request, nodding. “I will.”

Hong-bin smiled, closing his eyes again as he began to stroke his face with Y21’s hand. Y21 had the sudden thought that he wished Hong-bin had grabbed his other hand, so he could feel the same warmth that the other was enjoying. “Please…call my name.”

“…Hong-bin.”

A small sound escaped Hong-bin’s lips, a sound that was extremely close to how Sang-hyuk would sound when he tried to hold back from crying.

“…thank you.”


	18. Misled

Sang-hyuk clung to the back of Won-shik’s shirt, afraid to look anywhere else than the soft wrinkles his fingers made. He had no idea where they were going, Won-shik not having given him a chance to really ask any questions, nearly prying him from Hak-yeon’s arms when he tried to stay. Sang-hyuk didn’t want to leave Hak-yeon back at the apartment alone, and he desperately wanted to go back. They hadn’t spoken about anything to do with their current situation since last night, and part of him wished they did. He had no idea where they were going or what Won-shik was going to make him do, and he felt Hak-yeon had as much a right to know as he did.

Won-shik’s steps faltered slightly, startling Sang-hyuk enough he walked straight into his back. Won-shik let out a low hum before turning to stare down at him, Sang-hyuk’s eyes barely able to look over his shoulder.

“Look, kid, I know it’s hard to keep your hands off me, but could you at least give me a little space? I can feel you breathing down my neck.”

Sang-hyuk blinked confusedly before awkwardly releasing his grip on Won-shik’s shirt, his eyes focused on his feet as he took a step back. His fingers ended up latched onto the hem of his own shirt when he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and Won-shik sighed.

“Look, there’s no point making this any worse for yourself. It’ll be fairly easy—we’ll go in, get you all cleared, then bring you to do the deed. If you’re who we think you are, then there’s nothing to worry about and you’ll be done in no time. Worrying to the point you’re shitting yourself isn’t going to help anyone.”

Sang-hyuk could only nod, his heart in his throat, and Won-shik let out a loud groan at his reaction, rolling his eyes before snatching Sang-hyuk’s hand. Sang-hyuk let out a loud yelp, looking up in horror to see Won-shik purposefully avoiding his gaze, flinching in surprise when he felt Won-shik’s fingers stiffly slip through his own. It was a completely alien feeling, having someone other than Hak-yeon touching him so closely, and he couldn’t help the small butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the touch. Won-shik’s hand was warm, coarse, and surprisingly calming. But it was also a stranger’s, and he panicked at the thought.

He tried to keep himself grounded by focusing on the warm, real hand in his own, finally able to look up at his surroundings and realize they were in a completely different building. He really wasn’t sure how or when they arrived, and part of him was thankful for that. They didn’t speak to anyone as they walked straight to the elevator, Won-shik seeming completely unaffected by all the stares directed at them. Sang-hyuk was grateful he wasn’t, unsure how long he would’ve lasted if not for Won-shik holding his hand.

The longer they stayed in the elevator, the hum of the machine and each beep from the passing floors sounding like an alarm, Sang-hyuk could feel his anxiety skyrocket, his body beginning to shake. Won-shik looked down at him, his hand still holding Sang-hyuk’s, and he let out another sigh before pulling him in close, his arm wrapping around Sang-hyuk’s shoulders. Sang-hyuk’s body jolted initially, but it was almost embarrassing how easily he fell into the other’s embrace. He could feel Won-shik’s hand tighten around his shoulder, the squeeze reassuring.

“I’m going to say this only once,” Won-shik said suddenly, his voice low and gaze cold. “This place doesn’t have the time to baby you. You either sink or swim. I’m helping you now, but I’m not always going to have time to hold your hand. So get your shit together.” And just like that Won-shik’s hand was gone, leaving Sang-hyuk a confused and terrified mess.

Neither of them said another word until the elevator finally came to a stop, the doors opening and revealing the biggest room Sang-hyuk had ever seen. He scrambled to follow Won-shik when the other stepped out, immediately stiffening when he saw all the people walking around. No one was staring at them like before, all appearing busy, though that didn’t help calm him in the slightest. He purposefully kept himself at a distance from Won-shik as he followed him, keeping his eyes down and his teeth clenched over his bottom lip.

They went through a maze of hallways, most people keeping to themselves and not breathing a word to either of them. Won-shik didn’t look at him until they finally stopped outside a lone door, the light above casting a heavy shadow over the bare white walls. Sang-hyuk noticed this particular hallway was empty, everything white and empty, and he looked up at Won-shik with scared, wide eyes. Won-shik’s smile was strained, his hands in his pockets shaking.

“You’re not in the system, so we have to get you cleared first. Joon-myeon is in charge of that; he’ll get it all taken care of. Once you’re done, I’ll take you to your assignment.”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes flickered to the seemingly harmless door, catching on to Won-shik’s discomfort. “Will…w-will you come inside with me?”

Won-shik’s lips fell down into a pursed line, shaking his head. “No, it’s just you. But I’ll be waiting right here when you’re done.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed slowly, trembling as he watched Won-shik reach out to open the door.

He didn’t want to go in alone. Sang-hyuk had never had the chance to process anything since finding his parents’ bodies, everything moving so fast he could only follow blindly along. There was nothing to grasp onto, nothing solid or steady enough to focus on. Even with Hak-yeon beside him, his constant, never-wavering rock, he couldn’t look, not when every glance had guilt coursing through him. Won-shik was the only thing that made sense, that was always there, and he would rather take his confusing moods over being sent anywhere alone.

He cautiously peeked into the room, his fingers catching on the doorframe but his feet too heavy to step inside. The room was bare, minimal, matching everything else he had seen in this place so far. A few cabinets against the wall, a desk placed in the center, a man as blank as the walls sitting behind it with his brows furrowed in concentration, his hand clasped around a pen scribbling frantically. It reminded Sang-hyuk of home, the sight before him an exact reflection of what his father used to look like, and his stomach clenched in a bundle of confused emotions that brought.

Won-shik knocked on the door, clearing his throat when the man looked up in annoyance—only for a wide smile to appear when he saw who it was. The man dropped the pen and pushed his chair back in greeting, standing up with a delighted sigh.

“Won-shik! It’s been a while!” His eyes trailed down to Sang-hyuk hiding behind Won-shik’s back, and Sang-hyuk could see a glint of danger in the man’s eyes. “Ah…there he is. I can always count on you to get shit done.”

“Of course,” Won-shik said politely, giving a quick push to Sang-hyuk’s back that had the latter stumbling forward. “He doesn’t know anything, so I was going to give him the rundown once you checked him out.” Joon-myeon only half-listened as he stepped around the desk to walk right up to Sang-hyuk, his grin widening as he stared down at him. Won-shik didn’t leave right away, watching, and Joon-myeon looked up at him with a hint of annoyance in his eyes, his lips pursing.

“Thank you, Won-shik.” Won-shik grunted a quick apology before running out, leaving Sang-hyuk alone with this man leering over him, his entire presence screaming danger. Sang-hyuk’s fingers instinctively clasped around the hem of his shirt, not knowing what to do and needing something to ground him, and the man noticed. “So…you’re Han Sang-hyuk.” Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure how to respond, nodding shyly, and the man snorted. “Well, you’re exactly how I would’ve pictured you. Scrawny, messy; it’s too bad you look just like Jae-myun. Just looking at you pisses me off.”

Sang-hyuk stiffened at the mention of his father’s name, though said nothing when Joon-myeon motioned for him to take a seat. He did as told, keeping his eyes down when he slowly slid into the chair, listening for the man to do the same. He flinched when Joon-myeon slapped his hands on the desk, that same fake smile on his face, and he found that more frightening than anything Won-shik had ever done. Real terror filled him, caused his hands to shake and his breath to quicken, and he could feel the tears already prickling at the edges of his eyes.

Was…was this what his father had been doing? He…had he been working with these kinds of people?

Joon-myeon scoffed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes looking Sang-hyuk over in barely hidden disdain. “Tears aren’t going to help. You ruined a lot of our data with your shit, and I have very little patience at the moment.” Sang-hyuk had no idea what he was talking about, but quickly wiped his eyes and sniffled away the growing sobs in his chest. Joon-myeon was clearly angry, and seemed like he would actually hurt him if he pissed him off enough. He suddenly thought to his mother’s dismembered body, and he shivered.

“While I would love to just get rid of you now for all the trouble you caused, X39 is not responding to anyone at the moment. Every time we try to get anything from its memories, all we get are glimpses of _you.”_ The way he said ‘ _you_ ’ was filled with contempt, and Sang-hyuk was only able to lower his head in shame for a reason he couldn’t understand. “So, we need you to fix the mess you started.”

A long silence followed afterward, and Sang-hyuk glanced up in surprise to see Joon-myeon staring at him, realizing belatedly that he was expecting an answer. He couldn’t trust his voice, his body still shaking, so he gave a small nod instead. Joon-myeon didn’t appear fully convinced, his lips pulling down in a snarl before grabbing a folder off his desk, flipping through the papers haphazardly until finally pulling one out. The only sound in the room was the rough scratching of his pen against the sheet, the keys of his computer’s keyboard matching perfectly. Sang-hyuk stared down at his feet as he waited, noticing a small grass stain on his shoe, and his lip trembled. It seemed so long ago that he had been rolling around in that same grass, the sun shining warmly above and the wind caressing his cheeks.

Joon-myeon suddenly thrust the piece of paper to Sang-hyuk, handing him the pen. “Sign here.” Sang-hyuk hesitated, his eyes blurrily running over everything and only managing to catch the word ‘contract’. His lips parted as he realized what was happening, his eyes widening, and Joon-myeon slammed the desk again. “Hurry up. You’re not getting a choice here. Sign it or I’ll force you to sign it.”

Sang-hyuk hurriedly shut his mouth as he scrawled out his signature, it looking so childish compared to Joon-myeon’s elegant handwriting. He shoved his hands back into his lap as Joon-myeon filed the contract away, the latter refusing to look at him as he worked. He waited in silence until Joon-myeon finally finished, shooting to his feet when he saw the other stand up. Joon-myeon’s lip curled but said nothing, walking straight to the door and expecting Sang-hyuk to follow.

Won-shik was waiting just like he said, and Sang-hyuk never thought he would feel so relieved to see the other man. He wanted to run out of the room and hide behind Won-shik again, though stayed rooted to the spot when he saw the two of them speak to each other in low voices, their faces so solemn. Won-shik’s eyes glanced over at Sang-hyuk every once in a while, though it was only when he gestured for Sang-hyuk to come did he move.

“Tell me everything that happens,” Joon-myeon said, his eyes hard. “Don’t leave anything out. And if it actually works…” his eyes looked back down to Sang-hyuk, smirking, “I want you to bring him back to me.”

 

“So, our lab has three floors in all,” Won-shik said, hands in his pockets again as he led Sang-hyuk back through the maze of hallways, not once mentioning Joon-myeon or the contract he signed. He listened halfheartedly as Won-shik went on, his ears ringing. “If everything works out, you probably won’t be on the first floor very much. So don’t worry about that. Third floor is off limits, so you shouldn’t need to go anywhere outside of the second floor.” Won-shik glanced back when Sang-hyuk stayed silent, his lips pursing.

“Your job isn’t hard, I promise. There’s only a couple things you have to do, and if you can do it, you’ll be all done.” Sang-hyuk flinched when he felt Won-shik’s hand on his shoulder, peeking up through his bangs to see the other man staring down at him. He knew Won-shik was trying to be comforting, but his touch did nothing but work his nerves even more. “I don’t know how much Joon-myeon told you, but X39 has become a bit of a problem. Since… _retrieving_ it from your dad, we haven’t been able to get anything out of it. It refuses to give up any information, and all we’ve managed to get are a bunch of snippets of you.”

“…me?” he murmured, staring at his fingers. What in the world of his father’s would have pictures of _him?_

“Yeah. Supposedly you were getting all up close and personal with it. Giving it hugs and sitting in its lap—there were a couple that had us questioning, but seeing you now, I’m pretty sure they were all viewer-friendly.” Sang-hyuk had no idea what he was talking about but nodded anyway, staring down at his hands and hoping they arrived at wherever they were going soon. “But that doesn’t matter right now. What we’re hoping is that it’ll let you get close enough you can get it to work with us. If you can do that, I guarantee you’ll be just fine.”

“…and if I can’t?”

Won-shik purposefully ignored his question as they stopped outside a door of many, this particular hallway lined with multiple doors. There were no signs or marks indicating which was which, each as harmless as the next, though Sang-hyuk had a feeling each had a secret hidden inside. Sang-hyuk could only guess this was where he was supposed to do his ‘job’, though he still wasn’t sure what exactly that was. He thought to Hak-yeon back at the apartment, reminding himself to do his best to make sure nothing happened to his friend. He had to.

Won-shik made a move to grab the doorknob, stopping at the last second to give Sang-hyuk a long, meaningful look. “Okay, Sang-hyuk…I’m not sure how much you know, but your job is simple. Just plug the cable into the chest, and then press the big red button by the computer. We even marked it for you.” Sang-hyuk could only nod, his brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t know why Won-shik just didn’t go with him to give the instructions, a little worried he would forget once he went inside. Won-shik continued regardless, the seriousness in his voice palpable. “Remember—cable, then button. In that order. If you think you can’t do it, leave. If anything happens or things start going to shit, I’ll come and get you. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” Sang-hyuk managed, and that was all Won-shik needed to finally open the door. Sang-hyuk barely had the chance to take a look before he was roughly shoved inside, the door slamming behind him. Sang-hyuk wanted to cry out at the sudden rough treatment, though he felt everything come to a complete standstill when he saw what was waiting for him in the room.

Everyone had been purposefully vague about what they wanted Sang-hyuk to do, focusing instead on threatening him and reminding him of the consequences if he failed. There had been mentions of his father, the bare hallways and faceless people that ran around seeming to match his father perfectly, so clean and secretive of what they did. But he still didn’t know how he fit into everything, and what was so important that they had forcefully brought him here. Nothing gave anything away, and really, he hadn’t spent much time to try and figure out what it was.  

But now…

Here…

Sitting on a bed with his hands on his knees, his back impossibly straight and his gaze sharp, sat the one person he never thought he would see again.

There, watching him with that blank stare that always made his stomach flip, sat Hong-bin.

Sang-hyuk looked between Hong-bin and the door confusedly, trying to understand what was going on. Nothing in the room seemed to stand out, everything white and bare from the cabinet beside him to the desk by the bedside. His eyes caught the large machine placed on the desk, the screen flashing numbers with numerous cables running around it. He noticed one specific cable tugged out farther than the rest, the end resting beside a red button with an ‘X’ taped on top. He figured that was the cable and button Won-shik was talking about, though before he made a move to just get everything over with, his eyes trailed back to Hong-bin watching him.

It couldn’t be this easy…could it? Joon-myeon and Won-shik had made it sound like whatever this X39 thing is was the scariest thing in the world. There was nothing scary here…he looked back down to his feet, his fingers twitching. Nobody mentioned Hong-bin, didn’t even say there would be anyone else with him—Hong-bin couldn’t be the scary thing, right? He was creepy, but he couldn’t imagine Hong-bin being the reason Joon-myeon looked ready to kill him, or why Won-shik hurriedly shoved him in and locked the door.

Hong-bin was just lonely, like him. Hong-bin liked hugs, and liked learning and practicing different faces. Hong-bin wasn’t scary...

“H-hi, Hong-bin…” he started, glancing up to see Hong-bin finally blink, his eyes staring unwaveringly at him. “I-I didn’t think I’d see you here…” Hong-bin didn’t answer, not that Sang-hyuk really expected him to, and his fingers began to play with the hem of his shirt. He didn’t notice Hong-bin’s eyes follow his movements. “I guess it makes sense…you working with my father and all…I just—I don’t know, I guess I didn’t think you’d be here, is all. I…” He bit his lip when he realized he was rambling, and finally let out a big sigh as he managed, “How are you?”

Hong-bin’s shoulders stiffened, his back growing straighter as he answered immediately, “I am fine.”

Sang-hyuk let out a relieved laugh at the welcomed levity, so thankful for something familiar. He felt himself relax a little, smiling, “That’s-”

“How are you?” Sang-hyuk blinked confusedly, his mouth parted slightly, and Hong-bin’s hands tightened into fists over his knees. Then, slowly, Hong-bin said, “You told me it is polite to ask someone how they are back. Did I make a mistake?”

Sang-hyuk grasped the situation quickly, shaking his head with another laugh, the sound broken and afraid. “N-no! I was just surprised you remembered. I…I’m fine…too.” He swallowed as his grip on his shirt tightened, taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “I…I just…did they bring you here too? They didn’t tell me much…”

_They didn’t tell me you’d be here._

Hong-bin’s eyes scanned Sang-hyuk’s face, eventually tugging his lips down into a small frown. “What did they tell you?” There seemed to be something else in Hong-bin’s gaze then, something beyond the heavy glare he always gave, and Sang-hyuk wanted to cling to it. While Hong-bin wasn’t Hak-yeon, he was something he knew, something familiar from before all this happened. But Hong-bin was also unknown, and no matter how much he wanted to bury himself in Hong-bin’s arms and pretend he was still at home, he didn’t dare allow himself.

“They…they wanted me to plug in something called X39 to something…” He glanced at the desk, his eyes lingering on the red button. “But I’m not sure…”

Hong-bin followed his gaze, his head tilted just slightly. It was so stiff, so robotic, and Sang-hyuk felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I see. Did they tell you what X39 was?” There was a lilt to Hong-bin’s question, the same lilt that had first showed Sang-hyuk how real Hong-bin was.

He shook his head, scuffing his shoe against the immaculately clean floor. “No. Just that I…I messed it up.”

He could hear the bed creak, the sound so similar to the way Hong-bin’s body would crack whenever he moved too quickly. Hong-bin carefully held his arms out in a welcoming gesture, the warm gesture offset by how cold his eyes were. Sang-hyuk stared at him strangely, unsure what he was doing, and Hong-bin understood. “Come here, Han Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t move right away, his movements hesitant as he took shaky steps towards Hong-bin. Something was off, _wrong,_ about the situation, Won-shik and Joon-myeon’s words repeating at the back of his head. Up close and personal, hugging and touching; there wasn’t anything of his father’s that he would’ve done any of those things with, much less continuously.

He felt Hong-bins’ hands clasp on either side of his waist, turning him gently and tugging him onto his lap. Sang-hyuk’s body immediately stiffened, his eyes widening as he watched Hong-bin’s arms settle over his stomach, his hands unknowingly holding a little too tight as his fingernails dug into Sang-hyuk’s stomach.

But Hong-bin had been in his father’s office. Hong-bin had stayed there for at least a couple weeks, doing whatever with his father and having that machine plugged into his chest. Hong-bin had been doing something, but he couldn’t possibly be—

Hong-bin rested his head atop Sang-hyuk’s, his chest rumbling against Sang-hyuk’s back as he spoke. “Sang-hyuk…do you remember my name?”

Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped.

“Do you remember the name I told you initially?”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes shot over to the cable and button on the desk, whirling around the best he could, ignoring the sharp pain as Hong-bin’s nails dragged across his skin. “Y-you-” He stopped himself, unable to finish his sentence as he stared up into Hong-bin’s eyes, finally noticing the hidden sadness behind them. It all made sense, and yet it didn’t at the same time, and Sang-hyuk desperately searched Hong-bin’s face for answers. Hong-bin had parts of him that weren’t exactly human, _yes,_ but he still _looked_ human. He breathed and talked like a human. He existed like a human, felt like a human, lived like a human—he couldn’t—he couldn’t—

“I am what they are waiting for,” Hong-bin continued, unfazed by the crisis clearly showing on Sang-hyuk’s face. “I did not know they saw you. I thought I had hidden you well.”

“W-what-? But Hong-bin-” He suddenly yanked his hands out from Hong-bin’s grasp to pat the other’s chest, his hands moving down to his arms and up to his face. It all _felt_ real, though now Sang-hyuk could only think about how slimy Hong-bin’s skin felt, how _unnatural_ he remembered first thinking even back then. There were so many things— _too_ many things—that pointed to Hong-bin being not human, but Sang-hyuk couldn’t wrap his head around it. Hong-bin had spoken to him and treated him like a human, how could he not—how could he not be— “Y-you’re not-”

Hong-bin finally reached up to grab Sang-hyuk’s hands, tugging them down and holding them firmly. Sang-hyuk thought about how Hong-bin couldn’t feel, about how he had to guess how much pressure to use, and he wanted to cry. “You do not need to react so violently. I am not the same as you, but I can assure you that I will not bring you harm.”

Sang-hyuk shook his head, swinging his leg around so he was facing Hong-bin. They were so close, only inches from each other, and yet Sang-hyuk felt so far away. He could only stare at how pale Hong-bin’s face was, for the first time seeing how much was hidden in his expression that was carefully crafted into a blank expression. Hong-bin had always put him off with how he always seemed to stare without really looking, but now so close, he could see how much the other was truly feeling. His eyes were looking only at Sang-hyuk, his attention focused completely on him, and Sang-hyuk suddenly felt unworthy of such attention. He bit his lip to keep from crying, and Hong-bin reached up to gently tug his lip from his teeth.

“Do not think about what I am if it causes you discomfort.” Hong-bin’s voice was as steady as always, emotionless, and now knowing why, Sang-hyuk could feel tears collect at his eyelashes. Hong-bin used his thumb to wipe them away, staring at the droplets. His brow furrowed slightly, confused, and Sang-hyuk sniffled. “You cry at the problems of others. It is something I can not understand, but something I know is only you.”

Sang-hyuk’s voice caught when he tried to speak, his chest heaving. “S-so…you’re what I messed up?”

Hong-bin’s frown deepened. “You did no such thing. They are only concerned because they do not understand.” His hands rested on Sang-hyuk’s thighs. “I have not let them touch me since your father brought me here. I did not know they would resort to taking you. I am sorry.”

“What do they want to do to you?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” The softness in Hong-bin’s eyes contrasted the sharpness in his words, and Sang-hyuk clung to it. He didn’t realize how desperate he was for something that made sense, for a kindness that wasn’t forced, and before he knew it his face was pressed against Hong-bin’s chest and his arms wrapped firmly around the other’s body. He could feel Hong-bin’s body jolt beneath him, but he ignored it in favor of listening for Hong-bin’s heartbeat—only to hear nothing.

Hong-bin awkwardly placed his hands on the small of Sang-hyuk’s back. “You are hugging.”

Sang-hyuk nodded, scooting forward so his entire body was pressed against Hong-bin. “Yes…I-I…I like hugs.” Hong-bin thankfully didn’t speak again, letting Sang-hyuk enjoy the silence as he let himself savor the feel of another’s body, of someone else who understands. Sang-hyuk had always relied on Hak-yeon when he needed reassurance, but with the guilt that made it hard to even _look_ at him, he was grateful for Hong-bin. He let out a content sigh when Hong-bin’s hand tentatively moved up to rest against his shoulder, and Hong-bin stopped.

“When they brought you here, did they hurt you?” It was a simple question, but one that had Sang-hyuk trembling, the memories from just yesterday flooding his mind. Hong-bin caught onto his uneasiness immediately, and Sang-hyuk wondered how much of that was because he wasn’t human. “Where did they hurt you?”

“They didn’t hurt me,” he whispered, purposefully pressing himself closer. “They just brought me here…to fix you.”

Hong-bin didn’t answer right away, and when Sang-hyuk peeked up through his bangs he saw Hong-bin staring down at him. Sang-hyuk could feel his face flush with embarrassment, trying to look away and flinching when Hong-bin grabbed his chin to hold him in place. “I understand,” he said, his voice quiet. “I will help you, so do not cry.” His eyes narrowed as his hand slowly raised up to rest on top of Sang-hyuk’s head, his fingers uncertainly burying into his hair. “But do not do so immediately. They will not let me see you once you do.”

“Where will they take you?” Sang-hyuk asked worriedly, and Hong-bin’s silence was enough of an answer. “The fixing…it won’t hurt you, will it?” He didn’t want to hurt Hong-bin. He thought back to the cable, suddenly realizing he had to plug it into _Hong-bin_ ; and he had no idea what that would do to him.

Hong-bin’s hand dropped back down into their laps, taking Sang-hyuk’s hand and staring at the two of them curiously. He wondered what it was like, to live without being able to feel, and he could see Hong-bin thought the same, his fingers tracing over Sang-hyuk’s knuckles repeatedly as if trying to understand.

“Even if it did, I could not tell.” Sang-hyuk bit his lip, worry and fear filling him, though Hong-bin was oblivious to it all as his hands slowly slid up to Sang-hyuk’s arms, tracing patterns that only made sense to him. “I wish I could feel you. There are things that the body can remember no matter how much the mind is destroyed.” Hong-bin’s hands stopped before Sang-hyuk could ask what he meant, his gaze suddenly strong. “Before you go, please teach me something.”

Sang-hyuk blinked, taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. “O-okay.”

“What is a gesture that you do for a person that is different from everything else? When you see that person in a different light than anything else, and you want to mark it as something only for yourself?”

“A hug?”

Hong-bin’s hands clasped around Sang-hyuk’s arms, his displeasure palpable. “No. Beyond a hug.”

Sang-hyuk frowned, confused. “You mean a kiss? Like this?” he added when Hong-bin only blinked at him, pressing his hand to his lips in example. “I-I don’t know much about kisses, but they’re only for someone really close. Like someone you love or family.” He thought to Hak-yeon at home, of all the times his friend pressed sweet kisses to his head or cheek. “Most people kiss each other’s lips, but I don’t know if that’s-”

Sang-hyuk gasped when Hong-bin suddenly leant down and pressed his lips against his own, his eyes fluttering closed on instinct. Never had he been kissed on the lips before, Hak-yeon never attempting anything so intimate. He had read about it in the few books Hak-yeon had slipped him before, but nothing he read could have prepared him for the torrent of emotions that rushed through him in that moment. He knew Hong-bin probably felt nothing, not even understanding what it was he was doing, but Sang-hyuk felt everything. He felt how surprisingly soft Hong-bin’s lips were, how adept they seemed as they closed around Sang-hyuk’s own, how gentle his breath was as it cascaded over Sang-hyuk’s face. His hands were just about to try moving up to tug at Hong-bin’s shirt, a sign he was okay, when Hong-bin pulled away, his head lowered and his eyes refusing to look at him.

“We should finish. They are waiting for you.” Sang-hyuk was still trying to process what was happening, his lips still parted with the feeling of Hong-bin still lingering, and Hong-bin pulled his hands away. “Go get the cable, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t help the hurt coursing through him as he stumbled over to the desk, his hands seeming small as they clung to the thick cable. Hong-bin was silent as he slipped his shirt over his head, revealing the two doors he opened without a word. Sang-hyuk’s eyes fell on the hole in the center, the cable in his hands suddenly feeling like lead.

“I-I just…I just plug this in?”

Hong-bin finally met his eye as he nodded, mirroring Sang-hyuk’s expression. “Yes. Plug it in and then press the button. That is all you have to do.”

“It really won’t hurt?”

A slight pause, but enough that Sang-hyuk whimpered. “No, it will not.” He could see Hong-bin waiting, could almost feel the weight of Won-shik and Joon-myeon waiting, and took a small step forward. Hong-bin saw his hesitation and held his hand out, helping Sang-hyuk take the final step. Sang-hyuk had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was not as simple as everyone was making it out to be, and was terrified at what will happen.

He let Hong-bin guide him as they clicked the cable in place, the machine on the desk whirring to life as the screen flashed a bright blue. Sang-hyuk tried to read the screen, but Hong-bin tugged on his hand and forced him to look away. “Do not worry about such things. It is not meant for you.”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes flickered down to the cable in Hong-bin’s chest. “Nothing bad will happen right? You’ll…you’ll still be here, right?”

Hong-bin nodded, his hand still holding Sang-hyuk’s as he held his gaze. “I cannot leave. I will be here.”

That did little to help, but Sang-hyuk nodded back as if it did. “And when I press the button, nothing bad will happen right? It’ll just fix what I messed up, right?”

“Yes.”

“A-and…you won’t leave me, right? You’ll be here, right?”

“I will be here.”

Sang-hyuk wasn’t convinced, but he nodded again as if he was. “They said if you’re fixed, I’ll be working here. So…I’ll get to see you again, right?”

“If that is what they say, then it is the truth.”

Sang-hyuk was crying, though this time Hong-bin didn’t move to wipe his tears away. “You’ll remember me, right? You won’t pretend not to know me once you’re fixed, right?” Hong-bin hesitated, and Sang-hyuk was sobbing now. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so terrified, trying to hold onto the reality that of course Hong-bin will be here, and of course he wouldn’t pretend to ignore him. Nothing said that anything would change if he pressed the button—he was only worrying unnecessarily. And yet, he couldn’t stop the tears that ran down his cheeks. “You won’t change, right?”

“…I will be here.”

And Sang-hyuk pressed the button.

\--

_“I’m sorry—if we told you what would really happen, we knew you’d never do it.”_

_“We needed you to act like normal—it would know if you acted differently.”_

_“We’re surprised, it didn’t even fight. Maybe we’ll keep you around for a little while after all.”_

Sang-hyuk sat numbly in Hak-yeon’s arms that night, no amount of Hak-yeon’s worried questions or soothing kisses able to pull him back. They had given him all kinds of excuses—Hong-bin’s previous master had put a virus in out of spite, the virus ruined a lot of their work, Hong-bin’s memories of Sang-hyuk were interfering with their work—but none of them made any difference. All that mattered was that Hong-bin’s entire memory was wiped—and Sang-hyuk had been the one to do it. Sang-hyuk had been the one to wipe Hong-bin’s memories, and no matter what he did he could never get them back.

The tears that flooded his eyes felt normal at this point, his body’s exhausted heaves comforting as he tried to understand. Everything he did—everything he _tried—_ always messed everything up. Hak-yeon’s freedom, Hong-bin’s memories—they were all taken because of _him._ No matter what he did, he only caused pain and suffering.

“Sang-hyuk, please look at me. Baby, please look at me.” Sang-hyuk felt his head jerked up when Hak-yeon grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look him in the eye. Hak-yeon looked terrified, his eyes wide and the worry blatant, and all Sang-hyuk could think was that _he_ was the one that caused it. “Sang-hyuk, talk to me. You know I’m here—I’m always listening.” He leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Please talk to me.”

Sang-hyuk could still feel the lingering touch of Hak-yeon’s lips against his skin, and he brought himself back enough to clear his throat. “Hak-yeon…can you kiss me?”

“W-what?” Hak-yeon stuttered, his cheeks flushing. When Sang-hyuk repeated the question, desperation leaking into his voice, Hak-yeon pressed another kiss to his forehead.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He jerked himself out of Hak-yeon’s embrace and grabbed his friend by the collar, smashing his lips against the other’s. He could feel Hak-yeon flinch, letting out a muffled cry as he pushed weakly at Sang-hyuk’s thin shoulders, but at that moment Sang-hyuk didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that Hak-yeon felt nothing like Hong-bin.


	19. Unabashed

Sang-hyuk spent the majority of the night staring at the ceiling, his racing heart unable to let him rest. He could only feel overwhelming guilt every time he let his mind wander to the bathroom, panic-stricken thoughts continuously reminding him of the cameras that surely had caught a glimpse of T52 somewhere. Luck had never been on his side; there was no way he had managed to bring the cyborg to his apartment without being seen by _somebody_. Every passing second he listened for the sound of rushing footsteps, the clanking of hidden keys, the sharp breath of a person standing over him—he stiffened when he felt the bed shift beside him, a quick glance revealing Hak-yeon rolling over to press his face against Sang-hyuk’s chest.

He looked down at Hak-yeon’s sleeping face, full of regret as he fought the urge to protectively wrap his arms around the latter’s body. Sang-hyuk had never been good at thinking things through, never having had the chance to develop the ability to think clearly when pressured. Thinking now, it was absolutely stupid of him to bring T52 home, of bringing him anywhere _near_ Hak-yeon. No matter how sweet and innocent T52 appeared, he should have left him alone in the streets. He should have pretended to not see him. He should never have stopped walking. 

And because of his lack of impulse, he had once again brought Hak-yeon into a situation where he had no choice in the matter.

And once again he left Hak-yeon in the dark in a situation where he had every right to know.

Unable to control himself, he turned slowly enough to not wake Hak-yeon, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. He had to find a way to get T52 out of here without being found, throwing him out and hoping some other poor fool found him. He was sure T52 wouldn’t remember anything, and he and Hak-yeon would be safe. He just had to figure out how. If he could do that…he carefully wrapped his arm around Hak-yeon’s waist, a soft smile on his lips when Hak-yeon easily shifted closer…then Hak-yeon would be safe.

All that mattered was Hak-yeon.

 

He blinked his eyes awake to see the burgeoning pinks and oranges of the morning sun peeking through the windows, immediately knowing Hak-yeon was already awake. He rubbed his eyes as a soft groan escaped his lips, wondering when he managed to fall asleep. It couldn’t have been for long, feeling like death as his growing headache nearly willed him back to sleep. But before he could bury himself back under the covers and hope he could sleep for even another minute, he heard a soft sigh, and his eyes snapped open to see Hak-yeon watching him.

Hak-yeon’s expression was gentle, his eyes full of worry despite how he tried to smile, and Sang-hyuk knew why. He tried to smile back, reaching out and hoping to distract him enough to smile genuinely, only for Hak-yeon to pull away.

“Hyukkie-” Hak-yeon started, and Sang-hyuk immediately jolted, aware of who was listening, swiftly grabbing Hak-yeon’s wrist and yanking him under the blankets. He could hear Hak-yeon let out a startled gasp, confused but willing as Sang-hyuk grabbed all the blankets he could to wrap around themselves, pressing their bodies close together. He could feel Hak-yeon’s eyes on him as they settled, his nose brushing the bottom of Sang-hyuk’s chin, and it took everything in him to not laugh it off and run away.

Hak-yeon waited until Sang-hyuk stopped moving, his hands tentative as they rustled through the sheets to rest carefully on Sang-hyuk’s chest, his eyes brimming with curiosity. “Sang-hyuk,” he whispered, seeming to understand despite Sang-hyuk not saying a word, “what’s going on?” He waited for an answer, and when Sang-hyuk did nothing but look away, he added, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Oh, how he wanted to tell Hak-yeon everything, to lay out his heart and let someone else put the pieces together.

But he couldn’t.

Not this time.

“I’ll figure it out,” he whispered back, avoiding Hak-yeon’s question as he focused on the latter’s hands, unable to look him in the eye. As he felt Hak-yeon’s warm body pressed against his own, Hak-yeon’s soft breath running down his neck, he found himself unable to say the words he knew the other wanted to hear. Hak-yeon had lived with him peacefully for so many years; but lurking in the depths of his heart was the terrible fear that Hak-yeon would leave him if he ever learned the truth. He couldn’t chance that no matter how much he wanted to speak.

“I’ll figure it out,” he repeated, his voice cracking and holding none of the bravado he tried to force. 

Hak-yeon looked unconvinced as he reached up to grab Sang-hyuk’s chin, gently tugging it down to look him in the eye. “Please tell me the truth, Sang-hyuk. Who is that man, really?”

Sang-hyuk squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a shaky breath, wishing for once that he could really disappear. How much easier everything would be if he could. “I-I already said…he’s someone-”

“Don’t lie to me. You always try to hide, but I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Bringing that man here; will you get in trouble? Will…will they hurt you?” Hak-yeon took Sang-hyuk’s silence to purse his lips, squirming underneath Sang-hyuk’s fingers to bring himself eye level with him. His hold on Sang-hyuk’s chin lightened slightly, his hand moving up to brush Sang-hyuk’s bangs from his eyes. “They won’t…right?”  

Sang-hyuk could feel tears brimming along his lashes as he stared at the imploring stare Hak-yeon sent him, desperate and concerned, and his breath shook as he slowly reached up to take Hak-yeon’s hand in his own. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do, and now he felt as if each second ticking by was another that brought him closer to the end. He rubbed his thumb across Hak-yeon’s knuckles, revering in the soft feel of his skin, the touch of someone unburdened and loved. He wished he could have remained as pure.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens,” was all he managed to say, unable to lie anymore. Hak-yeon seemed to understand this, nodding sadly as he forced a shaky smile onto his lips. “But I promise he won’t hurt you. Nothing will happen to you, Hak-yeon.”

Hak-yeon took a long second to respond, his eyes searching his face before finally relenting. It was an unworthy victory. “What’s his name?”

Sang-hyuk hesitated, never having thought of answering such a question. Hong-bin, even during the time he pretended to be wiped, had always had his name attached to him. Whenever Sang-hyuk wanted to separate him from the model number they assigned him, he always had that name to turn to. But T52 had no such name. Sang-hyuk had never tried to look past the latter’s number, never tried to look beyond the surface and see what was really underneath. He chest tightened.

He shook his head, his lips downturned. “I…I don’t know it. You’ll have to ask him.”

Hak-yeon didn’t like that answer, though he kept from voicing it as he only nodded back. “Should I make him anything to eat? He’s probably hungry-”

“He doesn’t need to eat. He…” he could see Hak-yeon’s eyes sharpen, catching onto anything that revealed what was really going on, and he hurriedly caught himself, “…has a strong stomach.”

“Should I bring him a blanket then? He’s probably cold being in the bathroom alone-”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t bring anything unnecessary into the bathroom. If they notice, they’ll know he’s here. Just…just go through the day like normal. You don’t need to do anything special. He’ll be fine.” He could feel Hak-yeon’s stare on him, waiting for more, and he wished he had more to give. Taking a wavering breath, he brought Hak-yeon’s hand up to spread over his lips, Hak-yeon’s palm warm and reassuring as his hot breath was trapped underneath. Such a touch, such familiarity; it was something only Hak-yeon could give, and something Sang-hyuk could only allow himself to feel with Hak-yeon.

He pressed his lips to Hak-yeon’s palm, a shaky smile spreading innocently across his lips. “I love you, Yeonnie. I…I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He didn’t move when he felt a hand rake through his hair, able to hear Hak-yeon’s fond smile in the gentleness of his voice, his words colored with tenderness. “I love you too, baby. I’ll help you in any way I can. Just let me know, okay?” Sang-hyuk only nodded into Hak-yeon’s hand, a small whine escaping his lips when Hak-yeon continued to play with his hair, curling in closer to revel in the feeling. He could hear Hak-yeon’s faint chuckle, the sound likening to bells ringing in the summer air, and Sang-hyuk wished time could stop so he never had to listen to anything else again.

\--

With a quick goodbye to Hak-yeon, Sang-hyuk hurried back to the lab, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn’t stayed much longer after giving Hak-yeon the strict instructions to leave T52 in the bathroom, doing his best to appear normal as he kept his shaking fingers in his pockets and his trembling lips held firmly between his teeth. In the end, no one had come to his apartment, no calls or doors breaking down after the cameras were brought back up and the feed undoubtedly run through repeatedly. He could only hope that meant he had somehow managed to bring T52 back without anyone noticing and, if that was true, he would cry tears of joy.

He was just beginning to feel calm, his breath slowing as the elevator doors went to close—only for his heart to jump into his mouth when a hand shot out to hold the doors open. He watched with wide eyes as Won-shik stumbled inside, his hair a disheveled mess and his eyes glazed over as if he hadn’t slept in days. Sang-hyuk stared at him even as the doors finally closed, surprised. It was already rare to see Won-shik out of the lab, but to see him in such a state was something Sang-hyuk had never seen before.

Won-shik caught his blatant stare and scoffed, running a hand through his tangled locks and scowling. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.” His voice was hoarse, the sound catching on the back of his throat, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly looked away. Won-shik scoffed again. “You little shit, leaving me by myself and then pretending to be so shocked at me looking like death.”

Sang-hyuk turned back in surprise at the memory of leaving Won-shik at the bar to search for Sung-jae, realizing that he completely forgotten about him, and it seemed Won-shik knew this. “I-I…I’m sorry.” Won-shik snorted but seemed to accept the apology, letting out a heavy sigh as he leaned back against the elevator wall. Sang-hyuk watched him for a short time before asking softly, “Did you get home okay?”

“Home?” Won-shik laughed, shaking his head. “Never went home. These aren’t even my clothes.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes shot down in scandal, noticing now how tight his shirt was across his chest, his pants having to be held up by a belt. Sang-hyuk looked back up to Won-shik for an answer, the worst already on his mind, and Won-shik’s blaring laugh echoed off the walls. “No, I wasn’t that lucky. Your lovely bartender boy deemed I was too drunk to go home alone, so he took me home with him.” Won-shik’s lips were pulled back in a grimace, as if just the thought disgusted him. “Didn’t even know what happened to me. Woke up in some man’s bed like a bitch.”

Sang-hyuk frowned, his stomach twisting at the harsh insult. “Jae-hwan isn’t bad, he probably only wanted to help.”

Won-shik’s eyes were sharp as he stared at Sang-hyuk, his lips tugged down. “He changed my clothes and tried to give me breakfast. Who the hell does that? The fucking shit is lucky I didn’t report him—I’d feel over the fucking moon seeing him down in the basement.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed, having to look away to keep from defending, knowing Won-shik well enough to know the meaning behind his words. No matter how much he cursed and growled, he knew Won-shik meant none of it. Or, at least, he hoped. “You didn’t say any of that to him, did you?” He thought of Jae-hwan’s innocently intrusive questions as he watched over him and Sung-jae, and he couldn’t imagine him taking anything Won-shik was saying calmly.

Won-shik sighed. “No, but I told him not to touch me again and to stay away from you.” When Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to protest, he added, “Trust me on this, Hyuk. You don’t know how the world works; there are people you can trust and people you can’t. That man—stay away from him.”

“But Jae-hwan’s really nice-”

“No, Hyuk.” Won-shik paused when the elevator stopped, the doors ringing as they opened, and he took that moment to put a hand on Sang-hyuk’s arm. “No one pays that much attention to a random stranger, especially one as awkward as you. Don’t go back there.” Sang-hyuk had no idea how to respond, not having expected such a strong reaction, and Won-shik sighed again as he tugged gently to get him off the elevator. “As much as you probably don’t believe me, I really do care about you. That guy screams bad news—just be careful, okay?”

Sang-hyuk squirmed under the other’s stare, his eventual nod the only thing that made Won-shik let go. “Hey, don’t get all teary on me. You know I hate dealing with your baby tears. What do you have lined up today?”

Sang-hyuk laughed at Won-shik’s attempt to change the subject, shoving all thoughts of Jae-hwan to the back of his mind. “Not much. Just a normal scheduled check-up with X39. Though I have to go see Joon-myeon first.” He felt a spike of anxiety shoot through him at the mention of Joon-myeon’s name, T52’s face flashing through his mind, though it seemed Won-shik didn’t catch any of it.

“Joon-myeon? Why? Hak-yeon thinking of going out?”  

“Y-yeah. Just have to get it approved.” He was proud of how much he was able to keep his voice level, though he felt guilty when Won-shik believed him.

He hated lying.

 

Sang-hyuk didn’t waste any time the moment Won-shik was gone, keeping his head low as he tried his best to appear normal, hurriedly scanning the room to find anything out of the ordinary. Nothing appeared wrong, no one acting strangely or moving with any sense of urgency. He had expected at least _some_ kind of reaction, people running through the halls, frenzied whispers echoing against the walls, panicked looks sent everywhere—but it was as if last night never happened. That was possibly a worse outcome than anything Sang-hyuk could have prepared for, and his body subconsciously shivered.

He went straight to Joon-myeon’s office, knowing the longer he waited the worse his chances would be. As much as he wanted to bolt back to his office and hide for the rest of the day, he knew that wasn’t an option, both Hak-yeon and T52 depending on him to get his shit together. For once, he had to step up and actually do something, and if that meant speaking with Joon-myeon on his own despite the terrible urge to vomit his entire breakfast all over the floor, then he was damn well going to do it.

He knocked as casually as he could, listening to the sound of hurried papers rustling before opening the door. He saw Joon-myeon sitting at his desk with a wide smile plastered on his face, his desk clear save for his computer, the machine surprisingly turned off. The room was as bare as always, everything white and empty, and Sang-hyuk had the sudden thought that Joon-myeon more than likely kept it like that on purpose. His room gave as much away as himself, and Sang-hyuk realized that there probably wasn’t a single person in the entire lab that truly knew Joon-myeon.

“Hello, Sang-hyuk,” Joon-myeon greeted cheerfully, tilting his head slightly. “I don’t remember hearing anything about Hak-yeon wanting to go out today. Do you need something?”

Sang-hyuk sent a shaky smile back as he moved to sit down, immediately stuffing his sweaty hands in his pockets. He bit his lip as he watched Joon-myeon’s eyes flit over to his computer, his lips pursing just slightly, and Sang-hyuk’s hands clenched into fists. It was small, almost nonexistent, but it was there—the realization that T52 really was missing, and that it was discovered. He had to tread carefully now, and pray to every god that existed that Hak-yeon listened to him.

“Is there something wrong?”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes shot up to see Joon-myeon staring at him, his smile even wider while his eyes bored into him, stripping through every wall Sang-hyuk attempted to hide behind. Joon-myeon had proven to be sharper than anyone Sang-hyuk had ever met, his perception able to see through any lie Sang-hyuk tried to make.

“I…I have a request.”

“Oh, does Hak-yeon really want to go out?” His teeth flashed from behind his lips, shining and feral all at once, and Sang-hyuk felt his heart leap into his mouth. “I’m sorry, but he’s going to have to live with staying inside for the next few days. All visitations are currently suspended.”

Sang-hyuk blinked at the sudden response, taking a second to realize the real implications behind it. While he hadn’t really given himself the chance to question the blind faith he’d put into the note, Sang-hyuk had trusted that the cameras had been shut down. But with this sudden news, it seemed that it really was true. While he had no doubts they were fixed now, it made sense that they would ban anyone leaving, keeping everyone where they should be until they figured out what happened.

He knew better than to act completely ignorant, Joon-myeon still watching him intensely, and decided not to comment at all. Instead he shook his head, letting out a breath that might have been a little too shaky. “Actually…I was going to ask about something else.”

“Oh, _really.”_ Joon-myeon’s eyes narrowed as he drew his chair in closer, his chin moving forward to rest on his clasped fingers. It was the first instance of real interest Joon-myeon had ever had in him, his body language no longer blank as his shoulders grew stiff, his back rigid with his lips set into a firm line. While it was unlikely that Joon-myeon knew what Sang-hyuk really wanted, it was almost unheard of that anyone, let alone Sang-hyuk, would openly request anything. Requests were rarely granted, and ridiculous ones usually ended with the person disappearing. If Sang-hyuk had been worried before, he was definitely shitting himself now.

“Go ahead, Sang-hyuk. What request would you like to ask? Hmm?” Joon-myeon’s voice grew sharper with each word, and Sang-hyuk scrambled to answer.

“I-it’s not a big request, or anything. I-I was just w-w-wondering…” His voice was breaking into worse and worse stutters, every second Joon-myeon’s stare growing harder and harder, and he felt as if he could no longer breathe. “Would i-it be possible to, um, disable the cameras? In my apartment?” When he saw Joon-myeon’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping open in shock, he rushed, “O-only at night!”

It was silent in the room for a good couple minutes, Joon-myeon’s eyes refusing to blink and his mouth never closing, and Sang-hyuk began to wonder if he could somehow pass this all off as some kind of bad joke and escape while he still could. But before he could even think of forcing a laugh, Joon-myeon shook his head, chuckling darkly as he asked, “I’m sorry, but, _excuse me?”_

Sang-hyuk stumbled. “I-I was just wondering-”

“I already got the wondering part. Repeat your question.”

“C-could you…disable the cameras in my apartment…? At n-night?” His voice grew smaller with each word, shriveling under Joon-myeon’s dark eyes and curling lips, his furrowed brows finally revealing everything he was feeling. Surprise, confusion, disbelief; Sang-hyuk was in uncharted territory, and he had no idea what to do. Joon-myeon’s lips were no longer smiling, though the curl to the edges reminded him of a monster stalking its prey. 

“Let me get this straight. You want _me_ , to give _you_ , a complete _nothing_ in the eyes of the board, the luxury of disabling the cameras in your apartment?” Joon-myeon laughed, the sound for once genuine, and he shook his head as if he just couldn’t understand. “Is that what you’re asking me? Like, legitimately asking?” He rested his chin in the cup of his hand, tilting his head with his face openly confused, his gaze so dark Sang-hyuk felt himself wither away. “And what makes you so special that I would even consider such a ridiculous request? Did you finally man up and start fucking Hak-yeon? I’m proud of you, baby Hyukkie, but trust me that we’ve seen plenty of people fucking. There’s no need to turn off anything for something so trivial.”

Sang-hyuk felt something switch in him at the mention of Hak-yeon’s name, his worry vanishing at the vulgar way Joon-myeon spoke of him. He didn’t care what anyone said about himself, but he would never tolerate anyone speaking as such of Hak-yeon. Not even Joon-myeon.

“Don’t speak about Hak-yeon like that.”

Joon-myeon’s grin was ready to split his face in half, immensely enjoying the way Sang-hyuk’s weak voice attempted to fight with him. “What, you still haven’t said anything? The tension in that place could choke a man. But if you’re really not fucking, then what _possible_ reason do you have for asking to disable your cameras?”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t even think to regret as he spoke, so caught up in Joon-myeon’s continuous use of Hak-yeon’s name to hold his tongue. “I want to give Hak-yeon some freedom. He has nothing to do with you but he’s still being watched like the borgs. I-”

“Do you think you’re the only one with their family being watched? Every single person working here has cameras in their homes, and every one of their family members are watched. There is nothing special about Hak-yeon to be given any sort of ‘freedom’.”

“It would only be at night-”

“And do you think that makes any difference?”

“I’ve worked here long enough that maybe-”

Joon-myeon outright laughed at that, the sound cold and mocking. “Doing absolutely _shit._ You think you’re some bigshot because you get to work with the cyborgs directly? You’re fun to mess with, little Hyuk, but I like you now about as much as I did when you first got here. You’ve gotten shit done when it comes to progress—X39’s status has been stagnant for the past six years. Let me repeat myself when I say that you’ve done _shit.”_

“But I have made progress!” Desperation clung to the edges of Sang-hyuk’s heart, running his mouth before his mind could catch up. “X39 h-has been remembering more even after updates, and is able to recall information from weeks prior. He’s also beginning to mirror expressions and respond—he’s been smiling and frowning. I-I wrote it in my report, so there’s been…some progress…” His voice trailed off when he realized he had begun to shout, though he noticed that Joon-myeon’s glare had softened into something thoughtful, his lower lip jutted out slightly in thought.

“That reminds me…Won-shik had brought in the footage of a week ago between the two of you. Of X39 saying something and you losing your shit.” Sang-hyuk flinched, and Joon-myeon saw that. “We’ve always been on the fence about how useful you actually are, since your tendency to be emotional sometimes… _compromises_ your work.” His eyes narrowed, and Sang-hyuk felt his heart race. Won-shik had always warned him to be careful, and never before had he wished he’d listened more than he did then. “We had actually begun to believe you were affecting the project negatively, though even I have to admit that X39 has been changing.

“While I have no idea what you’re doing, it’s obvious that X39’s reactions were the most we had ever seen from it.”

Sang-hyuk flushed at the small praise hidden in Joon-myeon’s sharp words, shivering at the thought of that day, Hong-bin’s fingers ghosting over his skin, his voice full of emotion he shouldn’t be able to express. Joon-myeon was impressed now, but if he ever knew of the reason Sang-hyuk had broken down, he knew he would never be so calm.

“I-”

“However, you seem to have grown arrogant at the small hint of change.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes snapped up in surprise. “You think you are special because you got X39 to smile at you? Because he hugged you? Or that you can get Won-shik to change X39’s schedule just because you don’t feel like seeing him? You’ve grown arrogant, Sang-hyuk.”

“It’s not like that,” he said, pulling all the courage he could find from the pits of his chest. “That was my fault. Don’t blame Won-shik.” When Joon-myeon did nothing but raise an eyebrow, he decided to push forward, hoping Won-shik would be forgotten. Nothing he did was ever to get anyone else in trouble. “Asking about the cameras has nothing to do with X39. Anything I do for X39 is for him alone, and anything I ask for Hak-yeon is for Hak-yeon. The changes in X39 haven’t pushed me to be arrogant, but has showed me what is important. I’ve spent so much time and energy on X39, but have done nothing for Hak-yeon. I want to do something for him, and asking to give him some privacy and freedom is something I think he deserves.”

Joon-myeon snorted, countering, “Anyone could do your job. What do you bring that would make us think of you as anything but replaceable?”

“No one has been able to work with X39. I am the only one that has gotten him to engage in conversation, let alone reciprocating expressions. You can replace me, but you would have to find someone who could get those results as easily as I can. As you’ve seen with T52, a memory wipe is not as simple as you think.”

The scowl on Joon-myeon’s lips slowly turned up into the smallest of smirks, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he asked, “Are you threatening me?”

“No, but I’m warning you.” He thought to Hak-yeon, of the many failed promises to protect him, and steeled himself forward. He had spent so many years with his head down, afraid of the world and the repercussions even peeking beyond what he was allowed to see would bring. While he was terrified of what the future would hold, he was ready if it meant he could save Hak-yeon. He didn’t care what happened to him, as long as Hak-yeon was safe. “I’ve never mentored and have no intention to, and you would lose out on what exactly makes the cyborgs react to me. There would be nothing you could do.”

Joon-myeon didn’t answer for the longest time, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze piercing as if trying to dissect him. Sang-hyuk refused to falter, keeping his chin up and his eyes focused regardless of how much his fingers trembled or his chest compressed against his lungs. They sat that way for what felt like hours, neither wavering in their gaze, until Joon-myeon finally let out a low hum, the sound echoing in the empty room.

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said, his answer surprising Sang-hyuk more than a rejection would have. “That doesn’t mean I agree, or that I’m entirely happy with how much you’ve overestimated your worth, but I will think about it.” He stood up, the action immediately prompting Sang-hyuk to do the same. “But I’ll be careful if I were you, Han Sang-hyuk. Bravado will only get you so far.”

It took all Sang-hyuk’s willpower to not cower in fear at the intensity behind those words, giving a short bow and taking his leave.

\--

Sang-hyuk had spent the greater deal of last night and this morning preparing himself for his talk with Joon-myeon, which was why he found himself standing in front of Hong-bin’s door with nothing but an escalating feeling of utter dread. He had somehow managed to not see Hong-bin since the other’s confession, and even after all this time had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. Years of self-loathing and pain suddenly erased with a simple ‘sorry’; Sang-hyuk couldn’t handle change, and this was easily one of the biggest changes in his life.

The strange looks others were giving him was the only thing that eventually pushed him to open the door, though he kept his eyes firmly on the floor as he stepped inside the unbearably familiar room. Everything was the same, nothing moved, nothing changed—though it was ridiculous to think otherwise. Hong-bin only confessed to never losing his memories, it wasn’t like his body had fallen apart or anything. There was no reason for anything to change, or anyone to suspect. Of course everything would be the same.

Everything except Hong-bin.

The eventual lift of his eyes revealed Hong-bin to be sitting like always, his back impossibly straight and his hands held firmly over his knees. His hair was as styled and messy as always, the efforts of the more sympathetic interns thwarted by the dispassionate technicians. He wore the same loose t-shirt and pants that Sang-hyuk had brought him, something that made Sang-hyuk’s heart race and clench at the same time. For years, Sang-hyuk had tried to get Hong-bin to learn how to get his new clothes from the desk drawer after tests, and for years Hong-bin had continued to not understand. But now, sitting here clothed and _waiting;_ Sang-hyuk could no longer hide.

Sang-hyuk said nothing as he slowly made his way over to his desk chair, sitting down without giving a single glance to Hong-bin’s searching eyes. He kept his lips firmly shut as he reached out and began the daily tests, Hong-bin’s body following along out of habit more than anything. He could see Hong-bin tilt his head out of the corner of his eye, the other trying to catch his gaze. But he would do no such thing, forcing himself to press along Hong-bin’s body and find any inconsistencies, noting that for the first time there was nothing wrong. No broken limbs, no creaky rotations, no filtering voice cracks. His body was absolutely perfect, and Sang-hyuk didn’t know why it made him want to sob.

He dropped Hong-bin’s foot as if burned when he was done, turning to his folder and marking all the necessary boxes, even going through a second time just to double check. He really didn’t need to, had done this same test so many times he could fill out the forms with his eyes closed. He knew he was being petty at this point, but he just wasn’t ready to face the truth that had been lurking in the back of his mind for the past week.

This being in front of him was the same person that had been at the forefront of his memories, warming the edges of his childhood that Hak-yeon had been unable to touch. Those innocent, wonderful memories were what Sang-hyuk had clung to every time he had been forced to speak with Hong-bin. X39— _not Hong-bin_ —he had repeated to himself like a mantra.

But now, suddenly, those cherished memories were now sitting in front of him, waiting for him, guiding him.

Sang-hyuk couldn’t handle change.

But now he had to learn.

He finally put the folder down when he couldn’t stand looking at the questions again, the ink bleeding through the thick paper. He looked up to finally meet Hong-bin’s eyes, and was surprised at how much shined in the latter’s wide eyes. Confusion, regret, hope, understanding; there was so much _emotion_ shimmering in Hong-bin’s eyes, and Sang-hyuk felt his breath sucked away at how much Hong-bin had truly learned and understood over the past six years. Probably more than he would ever be able to express.

“Hello…Hong-bin,” Sang-hyuk finally said, his voice barely a whisper, but Hong-bin caught it all the same. Hong-bin’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his hands twitching but staying in his lap.

“Hello, Sang-hyuk.”

The following silence was thick, uncomfortable and suffocating, but Sang-hyuk had no idea how to break it. He knew Hong-bin wanted to speak, but he was trained to not say a word without being approached first. Everything rested on him, and he hated it.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, when a cold hand suddenly caught his own, holding it firmly above his head. He blinked up in shock to see Hong-bin leaning forward, his hand stretched out to hold Sang-hyuk’s, his grip cold and comforting as he gently pulled it down back into Sang-hyuk’s lap. The entire while he never looked away from Sang-hyuk’s face, his eyes desperate to meet his, though nothing relaxed in his face when he finally did.

“Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin said, shocking Sang-hyuk again at the other’s uninitiated voice, another change that was threatening to choke Sang-hyuk from within. When Sang-hyuk didn’t respond, Hong-bin seemed to understand, pulling his hand away and instead reaching out to tug Sang-hyuk’s lab coat from his shoulders. Sang-hyuk was powerless to stop him as he allowed Hong-bin to do as he wished, his body complacent as he helped pull his arms from the sleeves, his mind a mess as he watched Hong-bin carefully place the coat onto the desk. He had no idea what Hong-bin wanted, and for once had no idea how to follow.

“Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin repeated, his hand slowly moving to brush against Sang-hyuk’s, the motion hesitant but all his own, and Sang-hyuk felt himself start to cry. “You have avoided me.” Sang-hyuk refused to meet his eyes, refused to see all the emotion the other was suddenly able to show. “I am sorry.”

Sang-hyuk finally found his voice, the sound thick and wavering. “It’s not your fault. It…It’s mine.” Hong-bin’s frown deepened, matching his sullen expression perfectly. It was surreal to see. “I was the one that was hurt more than I should’ve been when I wiped you. I understand why you pretended. I just…” he glanced up to see Hong-bin watching him intently, listening to his every word with an intensity he couldn’t place. He found he couldn’t look away. “It took me a long time to cope with what happened, and I don’t really know what to do now.”

Hong-bin hummed, his hand moving to rub circles into the back of Sang-hyuk’s hand. Sang-hyuk felt a stifled choke escape his lips, the comforting motion sending rivets of warmth through his body. Hak-yeon had always done this to comfort him when he was younger, and Sang-hyuk had done the same to Hong-bin through the years to calm himself. To see Hong-bin doing it now, without thought, made a small smile grow on his face.

“I see,” Hong-bin said. “While I could not read you well at the time, I could tell you had not taken my memory wipe well. Here in this place, there was no way that I could help you without bringing you harm, so I did what I thought would help. I am sorry if that caused you anything but.”

Sang-hyuk finally smiled fully, shaking his head with a shaky laugh. “Don’t apologize. You did your best. We both did.” He tentatively pulled his hand away enough to wrap it around Hong-bin’s, for the first time noticing that his hand was now as large as the other’s. He remembered the same hand from his memories, large and cold as they held him in a way that contrasted Hak-yeon’s loving embrace. Now, held in his own, he found them fitting in a way Hak-yeon’s never could.

Hong-bin matched his expression, his lips pulling back to show his teeth, his cheeks crinkling and forming soft wrinkles around his eyes. It was strange to see such a genuine look on the face that Sang-hyuk had grown used to seeing blank, though he found it to be the first of many welcome changes. “I have not seen you smile like this in a long time. You appear different when you truly smile.”

“Well, there’s not much to smile about here.” He squeezed Hong-bin’s fingers, relishing the small whimper when Hong-bin winced. “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

 

A short while later found Sang-hyuk with his knees drawn up under his chin, his arms wrapped around his legs as he stared longingly at Hong-bin, the latter doing the same. Hong-bin had pleaded for Sang-hyuk to sit in his lap, wanting to hold him, to _feel_ him, but Sang-hyuk had drawn a firm line, refusing despite every fiber in his being wanting to just fall into Hong-bin’s embrace. Despite Joon-myeon’s surprising praise at the video, Sang-hyuk was not unaware of the hidden threat behind it, knowing there was a line that he could not cross. He could indulge Hong-bin, encourage him and love him, but that was as far as he could go. The moment he faltered in his duties, caused irreversible damage to the test, he knew he would be gone.

And so would Hak-yeon.

Hong-bin tilted his head, a habit Sang-hyuk never knew he missed. “There is something troubling you, Sang-hyuk. You have become talented in hiding your emotions, but I can see something is wrong.”

Sang-hyuk chuckled, the sound soft and weak. His grip on his legs tightened. “Is it that obvious?”

“I can see that you are not well. If that is what you are asking.”

Sang-hyuk laughed at Hong-bin’s attempt to answer his rhetorical question seriously, his finger moving to pick at a loose strand of his sleeve. He didn’t want to lie and say that his conversation with Joon-myeon wasn’t worrying him, or that he wasn’t still terrified of T52 at his apartment with Hak-yeon. Hong-bin was a good distraction, he always was, but there were things that even Hong-bin couldn’t erase.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing does not cause you to frown like that. You are…sad?” Hong-bin’s voice lifted into a question, his brow furrowed in concentration, and it was the distraction Sang-hyuk needed.

“Not quite, Hong-binnie,” he laughed breathily. “But you’re close.”

“There is an emotion that is not sad, but close?”

“There are many emotions in between the few I taught you. There’s no way to learn them all without trial and error.”

Hong-bin’s lips pressed together in thought, his eyes never wavering. “Then what are you feeling?”

“Something that can’t be expressed in words.”

“I do not like the way it causes your eyes to dim,” Hong-bin said, his voice impossibly soft despite having no knowledge of how to do so. “You appear sad but are not. How can you feel an emotion that you cannot describe?”

“There are many things that can’t be described. And I am probably the worst person to ask. I can barely describe to you what I had for breakfast, let alone what I’m feeling.” The joke fell flat, Hong-bin only more confused, and he sighed. “It’s not something that I can tell you, Hong-bin. It’s a feeling where I know I’m awake, but I feel like I’m dreaming. Things are happening and changing and I can’t tell what part’s my imagination and what part’s reality.” He could see Hong-bin’s full attention on him, listening to his every word, and he suddenly felt himself back in his father’s office, the two huddled together on the floor while whispering secrets to the world.

“It’s not the first time I felt like this, so don’t worry too much.”

Hong-bin frowned, an expression all his own as a smile was still on Sang-hyuk’s face. “Your acceptance of such a reality is something that causes me to worry.”

“Can cyborgs even be worried?”

Hong-bin’s frown deepened. “What I feel when I think of your safety, that is worry. You were the one that taught me that.” Sang-hyuk winced, properly admonished, and Hong-bin continued, his tone softer. “I always worry about you, Sang-hyuk. I want you to be safe. It is because of myself and your father that you are here. To see how much you have changed makes me sad.”

“Hong-bin-”

“I do not want you to be sad, or to be not sad but close. I want you to be happy, so if there is anything that I can do to help you, please tell me.” Sang-hyuk could only think of T52 hiding in his bathroom, of Hak-yeon waiting for him, and despite how much he wanted Hong-bin to hold him and tell him everything would be alright, he knew he could never allow himself that luxury.

\--

His request was approved.

It was that simple. No questions, no suspicious stares, no begging—Joon-myeon didn’t even call for another visit. The cameras would be turned off starting eleven at night, and would be back up by six. Any time in between would be unrecorded. It was that simple. He instinctively looked around his office to see if there was anyone hiding, waiting to tell him it was a big joke, and he bit his lip in a raging mixture of fear and regret.

It couldn’t be that simple, right?

Joon-myeon wouldn’t have agreed so easily, especially after threatening him, right?

But that was exactly what it was.

A quick trip to the records room showed the cameras assigned to his apartment, every single one of them black. He asked the guys working there over and over just to make sure they were really turned off, forcing them to turn them back on just to make sure the audio was turned off as well. He watched as Hak-yeon cooked dinner, the room filled with an unbearable silence as the truth slowly settled in. He watched as Hak-yeon continuously checked the clock, mumbling to himself, and Sang-hyuk felt his chest tighten. Joon-myeon had really approved his request.

Hak-yeon was safe.

And so was T52.

He flew home that night, ignoring all the work piled on his desk and the few people trying to wave him goodbye, his mind set on one thing and one thing only. His apartment door banged against the wall from the sheer force he shoved against it, Hak-yeon yelping from the kitchen at the sound. Sang-hyuk ran inside to see Hak-yeon standing frozen by the kitchen island, his eyes wide with a pan of fried rice steaming in his hands. Hak-yeon was barely able to stutter out Sang-hyuk’s name before Sang-hyuk marched forward and yanked the pan out of his hands, tossing it aside and wrenching Hak-yeon into the tightest hug he could.

“S-Sang-hyuk!” Hak-yeon grunted, squirming, and Sang-hyuk shifted only so he could crush him that much harder. It didn’t matter how it was obtained or how long it would last; for this short time, for this moment, he and Hak-yeon were free. No one would see and no one would hear. They were alone, together, and there was nothing more he would ever want.

Hak-yeon seemed to understand the severity of the situation, settling into Sang-hyuk’s uncomfortable embrace to gently rub his back, his voice low and whispering soft nothings. Sang-hyuk could feel tears prickling the edge of his lashes, and for the first time was unashamed to let them fall, able to feel his heaving chest press against Hak-yeon’s firm one. Everything was so right, so beautiful, in that moment; no amount of Joon-myeon threatening him, Hong-bin’s constant changing, or Won-shik’s warnings could affect him. Not even—

He abruptly ripped himself away when he remembered the real reason he went through all the trouble of getting his apartment cameras shut down, and he could see Hak-yeon blinking confusedly at him. He didn’t speak right away, couldn’t, his breath finally catching up to him after running the whole way here, and Hak-yeon waited for him all the while, purposefully taking his time fixing the rice Sang-hyuk had thrown away in his haste. He could feel his body tremble as he watched, his breath faltering at the absolutely mundane way Hak-yeon placed plates on the table, checking to make sure there was food for the both of them, smiling at him when he was ready.

He loved Hak-yeon.

And he would be damned if he let anyone take him away.

“Are you going to eat, or are you just going to stare at me?” Hak-yeon asked, laughing, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t help grinning.

“I’m starving!” He playfully tugged his plate from Hak-yeon’s hands as he sat down, dragging his chair over so he could sit as close to Hak-yeon as he could. Hak-yeon gave him a look but his eyes were only filled with fondness, his teeth flashing as he ruffled Sang-hyuk’s hair with a sigh. Sang-hyuk leaned his head on Hak-yeon’s shoulder, ready to relish the scent of Hak-yeon’s shampoo and maybe actually eat dinner, when Hak-yeon stiffened, the sudden motion sending instant panic through his body.

“What is it?” he asked hurriedly, leaning forward to see Hak-yeon’s face.  

“Your friend,” Hak-yeon said, his eyes wide, “we forgot him. He’s probably hungry.”

Sang-hyuk let out a heavy sigh of relief at the non-issue, dropping his head as he firmly held Hak-yeon in his seat when the other moved to get up. He could hear Hak-yeon start to protest, and he said softly, “I told you, remember? He has a strong stomach. He doesn’t need to eat.”

Hak-yeon shook his head, his expression firm. “Even the strongest stomach has to eat sometime. He’s been in that room all day, he’s probably starving.”

Sang-hyuk pulled back when Hak-yeon pushed his hand away, watching sullenly as the other made his way to the bathroom, knowing when to stop. There were only so many lies he could tell before Hak-yeon would realize that T52 wasn’t human, and he would never bring Hak-yeon into _that_ mess.

So, he dutifully sat in his chair as he waited, listening to Hak-yeon speaking with T52, the soft sound of feet pattering on the floor following before both Hak-yeon and T52 reappeared in the kitchen. Sang-hyuk noted with some surprise that T52 was dressed in some of Hak-yeon’s old clothes, the loose t-shirt catching tight against the cyborg’s wide shoulders, the waist of his pants clinging to his thicker waist. He should’ve known that Hak-yeon wouldn’t have listened to him.

T52 brightened at the sight of him, waving with the one hand that wasn’t being held by Hak-yeon. “Sang-hyuk! Hello!”

Sang-hyuk gave a small wave, unsure what to do, and Hak-yeon misunderstood his awkwardness. “I’m sorry, I know you said not to give him clothes. I just didn’t like leaving him naked. It isn’t right.”

 _No, it isn’t,_ Sang-hyuk thought sadly, though he waved the thought away as he watched Hak-yeon lead T52 to sit down. He wondered how much Hak-yeon had spoken with T52, noticing immediately how careful Hak-yeon treated T52, his touches barely brushing the latter’s skin. He watched how T52’s eyes were everywhere, taking everything in, his brows pulled down in a way that showed his confusion. Hak-yeon tapped T52’s shoulder, calling out to him almost like a child, and Sang-hyuk realized he had done much more than just give some clothes.

“Hong-bin ah,” Hak-yeon said sweetly, not seeing the way Sang-hyuk’s whole body jolted, “are you hungry? I made some food for you.” He pushed his plate towards T52, smiling despite the way T52 stared at him strangely.

“Who are you?” he asked, the syllables drawn out and confused, and Hak-yeon only smiled wider.

“It’s me, Hak-yeonnie, remember? I gave you these nice comfy clothes.” Hak-yeon fingered the sleeve of T52’s shirt, patient, and recognition slowly appeared in T52’s eyes. Sang-hyuk slowly felt his appetite disappear as he watched Hak-yeon try and put a fork in T52’s hands, his mouth dry when T52 began to carefully smile at Hak-yeon’s prodding.

“Hak-yeon,” Sang-hyuk said finally, the sound grating and _wrong,_ and Hak-yeon looked up at him immediately.

“What is it?”

“Where…what did you call him?”

It took Hak-yeon a second to understand, frowning when he did. “Hong-bin? Ah, that’s his name, isn’t it? You never told me, so I asked him-”

 _NO_ , he thought frantically, his mind scrambling to catch up to his racing heart, unable to grasp what was happening. T52 had never seen X39. The two cyborgs had been purposefully kept apart—there was no way T52 could ever have met Hong-bin, let alone _talked_ to him. Not only that, but no one knew Hong-bin’s name except for him. _No one._ He had never mentioned Hong-bin to Hak-yeon ever, only referring to him as his father’s friend when necessary. No one knew about Hong-bin, and he had worked hard to keep it that way.

So how the _fuck_ did Hak-yeon call T52, Hong-bin?

Hak-yeon was out of his seat in seconds, running to Sang-hyuk’s side and running his hands over Sang-hyuk’s cheeks. “Sang-hyuk? What’s wrong?”

Sang-hyuk was barely aware of his hands grabbing Hak-yeon’s, holding him still as he struggled to breathe. “Hak-yeon…did…did he really say that name? D-did he really say…?”

Hak-yeon bit his lip, worry deep in his eyes as he cautiously nodded. “Yes. He told me.”

Sang-hyuk nodded along with him, never letting go of his hands as he turned to T52, his gaze darkening at the innocent look the cyborg was giving him. Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t like what that meant. “T52, what is your name?” He spoke with the authority he used only for work, his tone sharp and cold, and T52 answered on instinct alone.

“T52.”

“What is the name you told Hak-yeon?”

“Sang-hyuk-”

“Where did you hear that name, T52?”

T52 didn’t answer right away, his eyes scanning both him and Hak-yeon before slowly morphing his face into an expression that matched. He lowered his shoulders, dimmed his eyes and dropped his smile, his voice holding none of the cheer it did before. The change was so drastic, Sang-hyuk would have thought he reset. “It is my name.”

“Don’t be so harsh,” Hak-yeon reprimanded, glancing between the two of them apprehensively. “Why are you acting like this?”

Sang-hyuk faltered, staring into Hak-yeon’s eyes and wishing the world wasn’t so complicated. But nothing in life was ever easy, and it definitely wouldn’t start now. He took a staggering breath before looking back to T52, doing his best to keep his voice light and his expression calm. T52 had always reacted well to his gentler approach. “I’m sorry if I scared you, T52. I was just surprised. You’ve never mentioned any name to me before.”

T52 hesitated, trying to read him and understand what he really meant behind his words. But that was something that neither cyborg had been able to master, and in the end T52 just smiled. “No one asked. Hak-yeonnie was the first person to ask me.” He beamed at Hak-yeon, Hak-yeon beaming right back, and Sang-hyuk felt as if he was missing something. Like he didn’t belong. And he didn’t like it. “But do not worry. I still like when you call me T52 the best.”

He struggled to keep his smile. “T-that’s…thank you, T52. I just…are you sure that’s your name? I’m pretty sure that was one of the interns’ names-”

“No, it is my name.”

“How do you know…?” _with your memories the way they are_ , was the rest of the question he left unvoiced, and while Hak-yeon sat unaware of the implication, T52 understood. He could see from the way T52’s face scrunched together that he knew the answer but had no idea how to express it, that ability taken from him when they wiped his memory. Sang-hyuk felt a pang of guilt when T52 turned to Hak-yeon in despair, Hak-yeon running a soothing hand down his neck, and he decided to change the subject.

“Thank you, Yeonnie, for taking care of him.” Hak-yeon looked up at him, his hand still resting on T52’s shoulder. “You really were a great help, watching him on such short notice. He didn’t cause you any problems, did he?”

“Of course not! He was perfect. Not once did he complain, and he even complimented my cooking, unlike _someone.”_ At that T52’s head fell limp, the beginning of a reset, and Sang-hyuk knew he had no time to lose. T52 was sweet, and he meant no harm, but there were things he wanted to make sure had no chance of ever being found out. And if that meant waiting until the other was temporarily incapacitated, then so be it.

“Hak-yeon.” Hak-yeon’s face hardened, recognizing the hard tone. “I figured it out. I found a way to get him out of here without anyone ever knowing he was here.”

A flurry of emotions passed over Hak-yeon’s face as the other did his best to reign himself in, his voice rough as he asked, “Y-you’ll be okay, right? You won’t get in trouble?”

“No. I was able to get them to not watch our apartment—”

“They watch our apartment?”

“—at night, but I’m not sure I trust them. I want to wait a couple more days to make sure they don’t notice anything, and when I’m sure I’ll take him away. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” T52 began to stir, blinking blearily, and Sang-hyuk hurriedly shot his hand across the table to grab Hak-yeon’s. “I promise everything will be okay. Just keep him in the bathroom and don’t take him out until I come home. If we can do it…” he paused, his words catching in his throat, “then everything will be okay.”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry this took so long. Real life and writer's block can be a real pain sometimes. I honestly didn't think anyone was reading this anymore haha. But for real, there's some real regret for writing the story like this. The plot is already complex as it is, and writing it out of order is sometimes really taxing. I don't even know where I am half the time haha. 
> 
> But I am really sorry this took so long, so I wrote this super long chapter to hopefully make it up! 


	20. Mistreatment

Hands grabbed him, ripping him from a dreamless sleep to take him away. Darkness surrounded him, welcomed and embraced him, muddling his mind to the point he couldn’t grasp any one single thing, everything slipping through his fingers before he could even wonder. But he couldn’t try; the moment he tried to focus, pain engulfed him, horrible, heart-wrenching guilt crashing into him in waves that left him breathless and afraid. He didn’t want to feel that, couldn’t bear to feel that, and instead allowed the darkness to control him.

A silenced whisper filtered briefly through his muddled mind before a sharp wall flew up, not once asking questions as to the familiarity of the voice. He didn’t want to feel pain, and that voice brought nothing but terrible memories. He couldn’t.

Fingers tugged at his eyelids, burning palms running over his cheeks, rough hands dragging him away—things kept ripping him to the brink of disaster, leaving him at a crevice that left him staring down into the unknown. He wanted to hide in a corner, shroud himself in an obscurity that would help everyone forget about him, leaving him to the solitude he believed he craved. He didn’t want to be approached, he didn’t want to questioned. He didn’t want anything to remind him of the world, of what he’d done, of what was undeniably waiting for him—he didn’t want that.

Noises beeped around him, bodies brushing past him, lights flashing in his eyes, penetrating the walls that crumbled before he could even lift them—he was vaguely aware of what they were doing and where they were taking him, and no matter how much he tried to hide, persistence continued to wear away at him. A hard slap, a forceful tug, a loud shout; each attempt yanked him further from the abyss, pulling him closer and closer to the bottomless hell that was waiting for him. _They_ were waiting for him, and the fear their mere presence brought was nothing compared to the fear of facing what he’d done.

He wasn’t strong enough. Escaping was the only thing he could do. He had nothing.

There was nothing left.

_“Nothing bad will happen right? You’ll…you’ll still be here, right?”_

_“I will be here.”_

A quick jostle brought him back to himself, his hand suddenly on fire as Won-shik held it firmly by his side. He stumbled as his hand clenched Won-shik’s like a lifeline, his eyes shooting around to find where they were. The white walls and blank faces brought memories he wasn’t ready to face back, and he retreated back to safety, the darkness greeting him like an old friend. He could faintly see Won-shik’s mouth moving but could hear none of it, his brain helpfully blocking the noise before it could hurt.

_“You won’t leave me, right?”_

He was dropped somewhere, a slap to the back of his head briefly revealing a white desk, blinking confusedly revealing a heavy gaze staring at him.

_“You’ll remember me, right?”_

His vision flickered when he saw Joon-myeon’s mouth begin to move, his body trembling at the thought of what foul things he would say.

_“I will be here.”_

_“Sang-hyuk!”_ Sang-hyuk screamed when a loud bang echoed against the thick walls, jerking back in terror to see Joon-myeon’s livid eyes locked on him, his whole body leaning forward as he slowly drew his hand back from where he slammed it on the desk. He drew in on himself as Joon-myeon settled back in his seat, his mind in such a frenzy he could no longer retreat, stuck in the present and forced to withstand whatever the world wanted. He didn’t want to be here. Everything only gave pain, and his body was covered and destroyed with the scars of what he had already received. He felt as if just one more pinch would cause his body to rip at the seams, and he couldn’t bear to let that happen.

He couldn’t.

“Now that you’re finally with us,” Joon-myeon said slowly, his every word laced with irritation, his eyes matching his tone perfectly, “I expect you to stay. I will not repeat myself again.” He tried to hide, his arms flying up to protect his face as he squeezed his eyes shut, but another slam on the desk brought him painfully back. “Han Sang-hyuk, put your hands down and goddamn _listen._ You’re already being given special treatment, I don’t think I should have to bring Cha Hak-yeon here to help persuade you.”

It felt as if a bucket of ice was dumped on him at the mention of Hak-yeon’s name, shaking at how wrong it sounded on Joon-myeon’s lips. Hak-yeon was innocent; he had nothing to do with any of this, and he felt a rush of emotions his body was too tired to understand surge through him. He could already feel his mind beginning to shut down, unable to cope with the danger Joon-myeon emanated, but he struggled to stay alive, if only for Hak-yeon. Regardless of how weak and tired he was, he would never selfishly hide away if it meant Hak-yeon would pay the price.

Joon-myeon waited to see what he would do before continuing, his voice muffled but clear as it fell on Sang-hyuk’s tired ears. “X39’s memory has been completely cleared, _thanks to you,_ so we have to congratulate you for that. All problems have been fixed, and it’s ready to start further tests. We do realize it’s a bit early to have you working alone since you know nothing, so they’ve assigned Won-shik to supervise you until you’re ready to work on your own.”

“…Won-shik?” His voice was wrecked, the sound raspy and weak. He wondered briefly what he had done to leave it in such a state.

Joon-myeon hummed, already ignoring him in favor of flipping through a few papers. “He’s the one who retrieved the borg from your father, and he’s already interacted with you quite a bit. They felt he was the best fit.” He glanced up, mistaking his question for disdain. “But don’t worry, we’ll all be watching you very closely so you don’t mess up. None of us trust you that much.”

He kept his head down, nodding only to get Joon-myeon to stop staring at him.

“That reminds me—I’m required to give you this option, so don’t feel too special just yet. But every person who’s been specially assigned to a cyborg has been given the option of working separately, outside the lab. The man who worked with X39 previously, Jung Moon-hyuk, had done so, and moved himself and X39 out into a secluded area in the country. Of course, he was still being watched and we made sure to have him checked on regularly. But we do take our people’s work environments seriously, believe it or not, and if you need seclusion and privacy to work, we will give it to you.

“So that brings us to the next question—would you like something like that, Sang-hyuk? Would you like to have a separate housing area to work? Of course, Won-shik would have to go with you for the first couple years, but you’d eventually learn enough to work alone.”

Sang-hyuk merely blinked, the last few minutes having reached his ears but the words too jumbled to be understood. He tried to imagine the faceless man living in a small house in the woods, leering over Hong-bin as he did countless experiments on him. His chest tightened as his mouth went dry—was that what Hong-bin meant whenever he mentioned his ‘master’? That man, Jung Moon-hyuk; had that been Hong-bin’s ‘master’?

…was that what he was going to be?

 _“Sang-hyuk!”_ Joon-myeon shouted again, slamming the desk again, and Sang-hyuk felt tears flooding his eyes at the sharp noise. He trembled in his chair as he fought the urge to cover his ears and hide, biting his bottom lip until it bled to keep him level. “Don’t you _dare_ pass out on me. Now, I’m only going to give you the offer one last time, so what do you want? Do you want to work in your own work area, or are you going to stay in the lab?”

His own work area…away from this place, away from everyone…where no one could find him. If he did that, he would be able to take Hak-yeon away from here, keep him in a safe place where no one could hurt him. If he did that, he knew that nothing would ever be able to touch Hak-yeon; he could finally protect him, finally begin to return the debt that he would never be able to fully pay. He could do so much….

But then that was exactly what his father had done. Locked away in a little house with a freedom that did not stretch beyond the front door, he had been forced to live a life of isolation due to his father’s work. He had no doubt his father had had similar thoughts, believing he was protecting his family by moving out to a hidden house. Now looking through the same lens, he was able to understand his father’s choices, regardless of how that had affected him in the end. His father had only wanted to keep him and his mother safe.

In the end, his father had only wanted to keep them safe.

He wanted to keep Hak-yeon safe too, but he would never force his radiant, warm-hearted friend to live with his feet shackled firmly to the ground. He would never be the one to clasp the chains around his wrists, to wrap his fingers around Hak-yeon’s neck to keep him compliant and confined.

He would never.

So, with the strongest voice he could muster, he replied, “No, I would not.”

\--

Won-shik was a little warier with him when he finally returned from his meeting with Joon-myeon, eyeing him carefully before slipping his hand in Sang-hyuk’s. He had no energy to push him away, finding something comforting in the warmth the other’s hand exuded, squeezing back gratefully. Won-shik’s gaze was sharp, his lips pulled down in a heavy frown as he asked bluntly, “You all there?”

Sang-hyuk blinked, feeling the faint brush of shame flush his cheeks. “Yeah, I…yeah.”

Won-shik seemed to relax a bit at that, his shoulders sagging slightly despite how nothing in his face changed. “Good. They still want me to hold your hand just in case, so don’t you dare whisper a word. I don’t need anyone laughing at me.” Sang-hyuk stared down at their feet when Won-shik tugged him along, unable to meet his eye at the other’s blatant warning. Despite the way Won-shik pretended to care for him at times and help him come to terms, he had not forgotten that Won-shik had been the one to kill his parents, let alone the one that had forced him and Hak-yeon here. No matter how much Won-shik tried to be friendly and play along, he knew what the other was capable of. And what he wasn’t.

Even then, he clung to Won-shik’s side as they walked down the hallways, flinching whenever anyone passed by. It was obvious the news of who he was and what he would be doing had spread, everyone’s eyes curious as they struggled to get a look at him. It made him incredibly uncomfortable, to know the real reason these people were interested in him, all of them expecting things he knew he couldn’t do. One woman even waved at him, flashing her teeth, and Sang-hyuk felt embarrassment rush through him when he instinctively pressed himself closer into Won-shik’s side.

He ignored the low chuckle rumbling in the other’s chest.

They rounded the corner to see a small group of people huddled around one door, Won-shik hissing softly at the sight before stopping immediately. Sang-hyuk looked to him confusedly before a sharp, female voice yelled something from the room, the people watching all shaking their heads disapprovingly. Won-shik clicked his tongue before tugging on Sang-hyuk’s hand.

“Come on,” he said, his eyes locked on the room, his lips in a low frown, “there’s nothing to see here.”

“W-what is it?” he asked, glancing back when the people hurriedly parted so a woman could storm out, watching as she stopped in frustration, running a hand through her hair. She glared at the people watching her before looking back inside, her voice hard as she ordered out,

“Chan-yeol, finish up with it and bring the reports to me. Don’t worry about being careful or anything. I don’t care anymore.” She shoved one of the watchers out of the way, not stopping as she walked right by him and Won-shik, muttering low under her breath all the while. There was a level of authority around her as she moved, her voice powerful and her presence strong, that no one questioned her, the crowd dispersing the moment she was gone. Even Won-shik seemed relieved when she left, letting out a sigh as he struggled to move his fingers from Sang-hyuk’s unknowingly crushing grip.

“Yoon Eun-ji…she’s a scary, scary woman,” Won-shik muttered silently, eventually grinning down at Sang-hyuk. “Don’t ever cross her path if you know what’s good for you.”

Sang-hyuk wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he nodded regardless.

He had no plan to.

Won-shik glanced back at the door, humming softly before shaking their hands to get his attention. “You know, it probably wouldn’t hurt to get a peek. It’ll be what you and I will be doing.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened when he saw Won-shik begin to lead them to the room, immediately turning to check for the woman before stumbling along. He had no idea what was inside, but whatever it was had made that woman furious, and after seeing her face, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see whatever that could be.

Surprisingly, there was nothing scary inside, his eyes catching on the bed and the man sitting on it. The first thing he noticed was that he was completely naked, his skin decorated in large blotches as it ranged from pale white to deep caramel, the differences stitched together with black thread. His hair was a mess, certain strands much longer than others as it hung loosely around his face, the eyes that peeked through what caught his attention the most. They were empty, confused, and so resigned; they were exactly what Hong-bin’s eyes had looked like.

Another man that Sang-hyuk had missed looked up at the sound of them approaching, awkwardly adjusting the lab coat that was far too big for his shoulders as he mumbled, “W-Won-shik, sir…”

Won-shik waved his hand, snorting, “Hey now, I thought I told you already not to call me by all those fancy names. Just Won-shik’s fine.” Chan-yeol only mumbled a small agreement as he watched Won-shik casually walk into the room, all the while dragging Sang-hyuk with him, their hands still locked tightly together. Chan-yeol’s gaze immediately went to their hands and Sang-hyuk flushed in embarrassment.

“Is he going to work here, too?” Chan-yeol asked, glancing between the man on the bed and Sang-hyuk.

“Yeah, though he’s not going to be working with T52. Don’t worry, that’s still just you.” Sang-hyuk didn’t miss the way Chan-yeol’s shoulders fell in disappointment. “Sorry, but we need him. We can’t guarantee Eun-ji won’t kill him if we leave him with her. You know what I mean?” A hint of a smile pulled at the edge of Chan-yeol’s lips.

“Then why…?”

“Ah, well, Sang-hyukkie here has been assigned with me to work with X39.” Chan-yeol’s eyes widened at that, his mouth falling in shock, and Sang-hyuk wished he could feel proud. But how he got there, how he ‘earned’ that position—there was nothing to be proud of. “He’s still wet behind the ears, and passing by I realized it’d probably be good for him to see what he’s going to be doing. T52’s not been having too many problems, right? Besides the memory, of course.”

Chan-yeol scrambled to answer, grabbing a folder off the nearby desk to shove into Won-shik’s hand. “No, but then there hasn’t been much progress either. Doctor Yoon has been getting really stressed because of it.” His gaze fell back on Sang-hyuk, curiosity brimming in his eyes. “How did you-”

“Okay,” Won-shik said hurriedly, cutting him off before he could finish, “we didn’t come to interrupt you or anything. We’ll just observe as you work. Continue, Chan-yeol.”

Chan-yeol hesitated briefly before seeming to understand, letting them back away before sitting carefully in his chair, pulling up close to the sitting man. The room was incredibly silent as Chan-yeol awkwardly placed his hands on the man’s shoulders, pressing along and rolling small circles into the skin. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he worked, his eyes focused as if searching for something, his head tilting as his hands slowly trailed down to the man’s forearms. Sang-hyuk watched, mesmerized, as Chan-yeol grabbed his folder and noted down a series of numbers, his movements fluid as he went from checking the man to noting his findings with ease.

Chan-yeol was just about to grab the man’s waist when the man’s body suddenly seized, his head snapping back with his eyes blown wide, and Chan-yeol let out a loud growl as he chucked his folder to the floor. “Ah… _fuck me.”_

“W-what happened?” Sang-hyuk whispered to Won-shik, watching as Chan-yeol slapped the man upside the head before begrudgingly picking his folder up. Nothing had seemed wrong, everything going fine until the man reacted, but he didn’t see how that was bad. He could see Won-shik shaking his head, waiting until the man lowered his head and blinked before looking back down at Sang-hyuk.

“He’s gotta start all over. Whenever T52 restarts, everything changes, so he’s gotta start the test over.” Sang-hyuk looked back to see Chan-yeol putting his hands on the man’s shoulders again, feeling along and running small circles into his skin again, and he shivered.

“T-that man…T52…is he like…like Hong-bin?”

Won-shik nodded, ignoring the struggle it took to ask the question. “Technically, yes, but it’s worthless.” Sang-hyuk snapped his head up to Won-shik in shock, and Won-shik only shrugged his shoulders. “It might sound callous but it’s the truth. Chan-yeol over there can testify.” Chan-yeol only let out a stiff grunt as he hurriedly felt around the man’s waist. “There’s nothing T52 has or can offer that makes it worth keeping around. It’s pretty much just a waste.”

“A waste that we have to put up with,” Chan-yeol muttered. Sang-hyuk worriedly looked to see if the man, T52, was hurt hearing such words, but it seemed as if he was completely used to it. There was not an ounce of hurt or sadness on his face, his eyes blankly staring at Chan-yeol’s hands. Sang-hyuk wondered sadly if T52 heard these kinds of things all the time, remembering how calm Hong-bin had been when talking about the things wrong with him, as if it was normal. He wondered if he had just assumed it was normal after hearing such horrible things every day.

“He can’t be a waste if he’s still here,” Sang-hyuk tried to offer as quietly as possible. Won-shik scoffed, but Sang-hyuk heard none of it when he saw T52 lift his head to stare at him.

“Oh, trust me, if everything works out it won’t be here for long.”

“But that’s not fair. You shouldn’t throw someone away just because they have a problem.”

Chan-yeol snorted, glancing at him briefly before moving down to T52’s legs. “He really is new. Does he even know anything?”

“Eh, he’s learning.” Won-shik looked down at Sang-hyuk with amusement glinting in his eyes. Sang-hyuk hated how everyone looked at him here, like he didn’t know anything, like a _child._ He knew he wasn’t the smartest, or the most worldly, but he was capable of learning and he was capable of understanding. While he didn’t want to be here and definitely didn’t want to do the work they expected of him, he was here now, and he would rather they treated him like it. “Now, Sang-hyuk, since you’ve been approved and are actually going to work here, you get to learn all the joys of failure. When you fail, you start over. When you fail, you get rid of the low points and focus on the highs. T52 over there is a failure, so it’s only right that we get rid of it.”

“How’s he a failure?” T52 was sitting there, completely aware and breathing; how could that be a failure? How could they stand there and say all those things when he was _sitting right there?_

“Well, T52’s been a problem since day one. It was always unpredictable and made testing a big pain in the ass.” He sent a small, withering glare at T52, though the latter was completely unaffected as he continued to stare at them. “It was emotional, and that made it dangerous. But it was the first, so we dealt with it. Then someone got the _bright_ idea of wiping its memory—kinda like what you did to X39.”

Sang-hyuk hated how his whole body shivered at the mere mention of what he had done, remembering with alarming clarity at how the light had slowly drained from Hong-bin’s eyes the moment he pressed that button. He hated that he could imagine the same thing happening to T52, frustrated tears filling his eyes at how someone thought they could _tame_ a human being by erasing everything that made them _them._ He could see how empty T52 was, how blank his gaze was and the way his body followed obediently to Chan-yeol’s hands, as if he didn’t know what to do otherwise.

They had erased whatever problems T52 had had, but they had destroyed him to do so.

Just like what he had done to Hong-bin.

“Unfortunately, nobody took into account about what side effects could happen, and well, now we’re stuck with this.” He waved his hand at T52, all of them jumping when T52’s body seized again, Chan-yeol slapping the man’s leg before pushing himself away, a triumphant smile on his lips.

“Finished! Wow, I don’t think he’s ever stayed that lucid for that long before. Thank _god.”_ Sang-hyuk ignored him to stare at T52 instead, watching how his body fell slack onto the bed, his body twitching and his eyes glazed as they stared unwaveringly at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe how they were treating him, like a mere object unworthy of their time. He remembered how taken aback he’d been when Hong-bin hadn’t known what a hug was, but seeing this now, he could finally understand.

Though that didn’t make it any better.

He wanted to give T52 the biggest hug he could, though knowing his place could only rip his hand from Won-shik’s instead.

Won-shik snorted down at him, as if finding his anger funny. “Hey, don’t get angry. There’s nothing you can do, even if you wanted to. It’s not like we haven’t _tried._ We’ve tried for years to fix him, but we just can’t. That’s why X39 is so important. X39’s been responsive to everything T52 hasn’t. If you can get X39 to work, then we won’t need T52 anymore. Don’t put your feelings where they shouldn’t be involved. The only one who’ll get hurt is you.”

Each word dripped with venom, the apathy behind the meaning shaking Sang-hyuk to the core. So, despite how Won-shik tried to hold his hand again and promise to help, Sang-hyuk could only shake in suppressed defeat.

 

But any supposed anger was gone the second they stopped outside a door that was surprisingly familiar, Sang-hyuk’s eyes widening. Won-shik shouted in surprise when he saw Sang-hyuk’s knees buckle, hurriedly grabbing his hand and holding him steady. At that moment, he didn’t care about Joon-myeon yelling at him, about T52’s mistreatment, or even about his own—he didn’t want to go inside. He tried to reason with himself that he had to go, that there was no other option if he wanted to stay safe, but he could already feel his body falling limp, his mind retreating before there was a chance to get hurt.

He didn’t want to see Hong-bin.

Won-shik seemed to realize this, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him until Sang-hyuk blinked. “Don’t you dare, Sang-hyuk. Stay with me.” He slapped Sang-hyuk’s cheek lightly until he squirmed, waiting until he was properly breathing before letting go. “I know you don’t want to, but they’re not going to give you time to eventually ‘feel like it’. We have to; _you_ have to.”

Sang-hyuk shook his head, already feeling tears prick the edges of his lashes. “N-no…I don’t…I can’t…”

“You have to, and you will. Now, there’s a few things you need to remember before you go in. You can’t start crying in front of it—you need to be firm so that it learns that you are the boss. It needs to learn right away.” All Sang-hyuk could hear was Hong-bin’s voice repeating the word ‘master’ over and over in his head, the sound cutting— _master, master, master master master—_ “Second, you can’t call it Hong-bin. You have to call it X39.”

He frowned, subconsciously shaking his head. “B-but his name, he told me-”

“I don’t care what it’s told you before. It’s wiped, remember? It won’t remember. You have to call it X39.”

He shook his head harder, desperate. “No, I can’t. That name—that isn’t a name. I-I can’t-” _I can’t do that to him._ ‘X39’…that was so demeaning. Even if he was some kind of cyborg robot, he was still a person. He could still remember how Hong-bin struggled to smile, confusion in his eyes whenever he learned something new, staring at Sang-hyuk with a trust Sang-hyuk never thought he could break. Hong-bin was still a person; how could he call him by such a name?

“I’m serious, Sang-hyuk. If you call it Hong-bin, they’re going to have to wipe it again. And they’re not going to exactly be happy about that.” Sang-hyuk swallowed at the idea of having to wipe Hong-bin again, of watching the light fade from his eyes _again,_ and eventually nodded. He would rather call Hong-bin any degrading name they could think of than watch that happen again.

Won-shik made him promise before he finally opened the door, and Sang-hyuk felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of Hong-bin. He noticed the room was exactly like T52’s, empty save for a bed and desk, Hong-bin placed at the edge of the bed in wait. He felt slightly uncomfortable at the sight of Hong-bin naked, his fingers grasping the edge of his shirt when he saw Hong-bin’s chest open with a cable plugged into it. He had never thought much of it when he’d seen Hong-bin plug himself in before, but understanding now what he was and why it was needed—it made his stomach churn.

“It’s not aware of anything you do when plugged in, so don’t worry too much,” Won-shik said as he walked past him and up to the desk, flipping through the folders. “For the most part, the technicians will leave it plugged in for you. Sometimes they’re lazy, and you’ll have to remember to plug it in when you’re done. Do you know how to unplug it?”

“I-I…yeah.” His feet felt like lead as he slowly made his way to Won-shik’s side, his eyes pulled to Hong-bin no matter how much he tried to look away. Everything…everything looked the same. Nothing on his face was changed, his cheeks still full and his eyes still thin. His shoulders were still broad, his chest still firm, his hands still soft…he was still the same. Suddenly, the ridiculous hope that maybe, just _maybe,_ it didn’t work filled him.

Maybe, Hong-bin would still be there.

Yes, that was it. Hong-bin would look at him in surprise when he unplugged him, taking a second before smiling and greeting him like always. Then Sang-hyuk would ask him how he was, and he would get to see that terrified, awkward look pass over his face when he realized he was supposed to ask something back. Then they would laugh together, and everything would pass. He focused on that as his fingers wrapped around the end of the cable, waiting for Won-shik’s signal to pull the plug.

Hong-bin would still be the same.

Hong-bin promised him.

Hong-bin’s eyes snapped open the moment the cable was gone, Sang-hyuk taking that second of confusion to close his chest. He could feel his heart race as he watched Hong-bin’s eyes slowly focus, and for a second, he thought he could see a flash of recognition. He fought the terrible urge to shout Hong-bin’s name, his fingers itching to wrap him in a hug and apologize for ever hurting him. But Won-shik’s warning weighed heavy in his mind, and he stayed still.

Hong-bin was staring at him now, nothing in his face changing, and Sang-hyuk could feel himself begin to sweat with how empty his eyes were. There was nothing there. There was nothing there—but he was only pretending, right? He didn’t…he didn’t really erase his memory, right? Hong-bin promised.

Won-shik nudged him, bringing him back, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. “H-hello, X39.”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed at the name, something flashing, but it was gone almost as fast as it appeared. Won-shik took over then, pushing Sang-hyuk forward. “My name is Won-shik, and this is Sang-hyuk. Do you understand?” His voice was authoritative, strong, and Sang-hyuk doubted that he could ever sound the same.

“Yes,” Hong-bin replied, short and soft. Cold. Nothing like before.

“Your code is X39. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“We will be in charge of your tests from now on. We will start with conducting a physical test to make sure everything is functioning properly. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Won-shik turned then to Sang-hyuk, lowering his voice. “Okay. I’ll show you how to do the daily tests. It’s similar to what you saw Chan-yeol doing, though it shouldn’t be as difficult. X39’s pretty simple. You just have to feel around to make sure nothing’s broken and everything is attached correctly. You never know when a cable or bolt comes loose. Now-”

“W-wait,” Sang-hyuk rushed before he could stop himself, chewing on his bottom lip. “Can I…can I ask him something…? Just one thing…”

Won-shik’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I just—” he turned to Hong-bin, grabbing his hand and squeezing his slimy fingers desperately. He had to—he had to see. No matter how much they told him, he had to see for himself. Hong-bin couldn’t really be gone, not when he was sitting here just like before. Nothing was changed, nothing was different. Hong-bin couldn’t really be gone. He had to—he had to see for himself. “—do you remember me? Me…X-X39, do you—”

“Han Sang-hyuk-!” Won-shik growled, grabbing his shoulder and pulling back—but that didn’t hurt nearly as much as Hong-bin staring at him with those empty eyes, stating calmly,

“I do not know you.”


	21. Miscommunication

He was startled awake by the sudden shift next to him, his eyes snapping open to see Hak-yeon beside him, his eyes wide in apology and frozen mid-stretch. At the sight of him awake, Hak-yeon carefully laid back down, his hand instinctively attempting to push Sang-hyuk’s hair from his eyes, only to hesitate and eventually pull away. Sang-hyuk wished he had reached out and taken his hand back, splaying his fingers into his hair and reassuring him everything was alright. He wished; but did nothing, keeping his hands fisted in the blankets and lowering his eyes in shame.

Minutes ticked by in silent passing, neither of them moving as they listened to the faint sounds of the city outside, the room bathed in a soft glow from the sunlight peeking through the thin curtains. Sang-hyuk followed the light to see how it gently brushed over Hak-yeon’s face, his eyes sparkling, and he bit his lip when he saw how _young_ he looked. There was no worry permanently etched into his brow, no wrinkles at the edges of his eyes from how many times he faked his smile. At that moment, he couldn’t help but mourn how much of that he would slowly carve into Hak-yeon’s light, chipping away at everything that made him shine in order to keep him safe. Here, Hak-yeon was still beautiful, still bright, and his eyes couldn’t get enough of it.

He tentatively pulled his hand from the blanket, his fingers begging to stroke Hak-yeon’s skin, for just a second to feel the Hak-yeon he had truly loved and remembered. Hak-yeon’s eyes followed his hand, curious and innocent, unmoving as he waited, trusting completely. A smile slowly spread over Sang-hyuk’s lips as his fingers tapped the tip of Hak-yeon’s nose, his palm moving to cup his cheek—

—only to be met with cold metal instead of soft skin. He tried to pull back only for Hak-yeon to suddenly grab his hand, his grip tight as he forced him still. Hak-yeon’s gaze was still soft, still sweet, but the shine was gone, the wrinkles and pain drawing across his skin as age pulled at him, turning him to the husk of a man that Sang-hyuk had made him into. Hak-yeon smiled, the same smile that had reassured Sang-hyuk for so many years, only now it made his body lurch in regret.

 _“It’s okay.”_ His voice was dazed, the sound slurred and slow, _“Don’t worry, baby, everything will be okay.”_

No, no it wouldn’t. Just seeing how much Hak-yeon had changed over the years, because of _him_ ; there was no way everything would be okay. 

Hak-yeon kissed his fingers. _“I won’t blame you. It’s okay, baby.”_

\--

He and Hak-yeon had a routine they eventually managed to find, one where they were able to pretend everything was okay while awkwardly dancing around the issues they wordlessly promised to never mention. Hak-yeon would wake first to cook breakfast, and would go to wake Sang-hyuk when he was finished. They would then eat breakfast, asking each other mundane questions that usually resulted in silence:

_“So, what are you going to do today?_

_Nothing. And you?_

_...nothing.”_

Eventually, Sang-hyuk would get dressed and then hug Hak-yeon goodbye, the two of them wishing each other a good day despite both knowing neither would. They would wave and smile, acting too cheerful, but it made him feel a little better. Leaving Hak-yeon alone. Walking into a hell that greeted him with black teeth and wicked promises. Being forced to smile and play along with the blank husk of a cyborg he had created.

Yes, it was cruel, but it made Sang-hyuk feel a little better.

It was on one of those days, him and Hak-yeon attempting to find a comfortable conversation while eating their cold cereal, that there was a knock on the door. Hak-yeon immediately stiffened in his chair as he turned to Sang-hyuk with wide eyes, nervous, and Sang-hyuk did his best to smile reassuringly as he silently stood up to answer. It wasn’t that he was unaffected, or that he was used to the way these people worked; he knew Hak-yeon worried about him, and he knew what lengths Hak-yeon would go to keep him safe. He had to appear strong—for Hak-yeon.

He didn’t want Hak-yeon to worry.

Hak-yeon caught his hand, shaking his head when Sang-hyuk whirled around to ask what he was doing. He merely tugged Sang-hyuk behind him, acting as a barrier as he opened the door. Sang-hyuk hated the way his body easily melded against Hak-yeon’s back. He wanted to take that role, to be the one to lead the way and have Hak-yeon trust him completely…but he was weak. He always was.

They both blinked in surprise to see Won-shik standing at the door in a full suit, the latter wasting no time stepping inside. Won-shik smirked in amusement to see the two staring, neither knowing what to say, and casually leaned forward to gently pry Hak-yeon’s fingers away to close the door. Hak-yeon flinched away as if burned, his hands immediately wrapping around Sang-hyuk as he stiffly pulled him back. Won-shik chuckled lowly at that, his eyes running over Hak-yeon in a way that had Sang-hyuk shifting to stand in front.

Won-shik snorted. “You know, it’s too bad they decided not to let Hak-yeonnie here join us too. I would gladly have volunteered to mentor him.” His eyes lingered on Hak-yeon’s face a second too long, Sang-hyuk growling as he slapped Won-shik’s arm.

“You promised you wouldn’t touch him!”

“I promised no such thing.” The widening grin Won-shik gave had chills running down Sang-hyuk’s spine, and he stumbled back into Hak-yeon’s arms. “But don’t worry, he never would’ve been allowed in, regardless if he wanted to or not.” Sang-hyuk glowered uselessly at Won-shik, his insides burning, though it seemed to only amuse Won-shik that much more. “But as much as I like watching the two of you piss yourselves, I actually came for a reason. There’s a special event at the lab today, so we need to leave early to get you ready.”

Hak-yeon suddenly went still, his breath caught as his chest did little more than stutter. “Sang-hyuk won’t be in trouble, will he?” he asked, his voice wavering.

Won-shik paused, staring at Hak-yeon wordlessly before shaking his head. His voice was softer. “No, he’s not in any trouble. It’s just something that happens once in a while. If he’s lucky, he won’t even have to deal with any of it.”

Hak-yeon silently leaned down to place a soft kiss to the side of Sang-hyuk’s head, his hold tightening. Then, with his lips still pressed warmly to his face, his body flush against his own and his arms so tight, he asked, “You promise you’ll keep him safe…?”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes shot up to see Won-shik purse his lips, his face carefully blank as he answered, “Yes.” That was the only thing that eventually pushed Hak-yeon to let Sang-hyuk go, his face unable to make his cheery smile as he waved them goodbye. Sang-hyuk always wondered what had happened that day to make Hak-yeon so sad, to see for the first time Hak-yeon unable to perfectly hide away how he felt. He wished he did, only so he could erase them all away until only the sun shined from behind his friend’s eyes.

 

It wasn’t until they were walking through the elevator doors that Won-shik finally talked to him, grabbing his hand and leading him away. He never did stop from holding his hand, even when it was clear Sang-hyuk wasn’t going to pass out at any second. A part of Sang-hyuk knew it was because of what he did with Hong— _X39_ that day, but another, smaller, part of him liked to believe Won-shik actually wanted to look out for him. So, Sang-hyuk never fought him. “Like I said earlier, there’s going to be a special event today, so we need you to dress nice.”

Sang-hyuk frowned confusedly, glancing down at his simple t-shirt and jeans. “But I’m not-”

“I know you’re not, no need to worry that pretty little head of yours.” Sang-hyuk settled for a silent glare as he followed Won-shik into a small room, one that a quick look around told him was Won-shik’s office. He actually found himself staring as Won-shik left him to rummage through his filing cabinet, his fingers clasping at the hem of his shirt. The room was the first Sang-hyuk had seen that actually _felt_ like someone lived there, or at least used it. The desk was littered with papers, unused folders and files pushed to the side and hidden under even more paper. There was a jacket strewn haphazardly over the chair, a still full cup of coffee misplaced on an end table, a pair of fuzzy slippers left by the desk; it made the room feel _warm._ It was so different from how empty the rest of this place was.  

“Aha!” Won-shik shouted triumphantly, clambering up to his knees to proudly wave a bundle of clothes at him. “Found it! Knew I had it somewhere.” He moved back over to Sang-hyuk’s side to place it in his hands, shaking them out to show a dark pair of slacks and a silk shirt. When Sang-hyuk only stared at it confusedly, he added, “You can wear these for now. Eventually you’re gonna have to go out and get your own, but these will do for today.”

“I-I have to wear these?”

“Yeah. The sponsors are coming today to check out X39, and we all have to be dressed in our finest to greet them. It’s all nonsense, really, but it helps boost their egos.”

“…sponsors?”

Won-shik let out a dramatic sigh. “They’re not really anyone _you’re_ going to have to deal with, but they’re still a pain. They’re the people that pretty much determine what happens here and how.”

Sang-hyuk paused, biting his lip as he carefully ran his thumb over the soft fabric of the shirt. It was so smooth, cool, and he could feel how expensive it was from just the touch alone. He had never had anything so expensive before in his life. “So…are they like, the top? Above Joon-myeon?”

“Ah, no, not really. They don’t work here or anything. They’re just the ones who fund everything to make sure we can actually get shit done. You don’t think we can afford all this fancy technology all by ourselves, do you?” Sang-hyuk meekly shook his head, and Won-shik let out another exaggerated sigh as he ruffled Sang-hyuk’s hair. “Well, don’t think too much about it. You’re too new for Joon-myeon to show you off, and he’s not about to let them get a look at you so soon. More than likely you won’t even see them.”

Sang-hyuk’s grip around the clothes tightened. “…you said t-they’re going to see Hong-bin…right?”

The smile slipped from Won-shik’s face. “Yes. They were concerned about how it wasn’t cooperating, so Joon-myeon’s going to let them know everything’s been resolved.” He paused for a second, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shifted awkwardly. “X39’s going to be with them for the whole day, so we’re going to be working someplace else. You won’t have to see anything.”

He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or disappointed.

 

Won-shik took him down a flight of stairs after Sang-hyuk finished changing, telling him it was the best place to hide. _“No one ever goes down there. They’ll never find us.”_ He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he decided to trust him, squeezing Won-shik’s hand as they stepped into a large room. The moment the door opened all eyes turned to them, everyone looking up from whatever they were working on to stare at them. Usually such attention terrified Sang-hyuk, but Sang-hyuk found his eyes focused elsewhere, his hand in Won-shik’s shaking.

The difference between this place and the lab where Sang-hyuk had been working was day and night. The lab was beautiful in its own way, always wonderfully clean and bright, in a way easily hiding the horrors that were done behind closed doors. Everyone there smiled, their faces washed and their clothes pressed, appearing so welcoming despite how underneath their masks was the destructive thirst for knowledge. Here…there was none of that. The white walls that Sang-hyuk had associated with the lab were nonexistent here, the walls lined with metal that had darkened from age. There were no windows, everything lit by the dull glow of the swinging lights above. The people here looked like they hadn’t seen the sun in years, their faces wrinkled and dull, their hair frazzled and greasy, their clothes covered in reddened blotches that Sang-hyuk refused to believe was blood. This place was exactly what Sang-hyuk had been expecting to see when he first arrived, and to see it for real made his knees weak.

This was the place where humanity really had died, and no amount of fakeness above could change that.

Won-shik could feel Sang-hyuk’s horror, his grip tightening in reassurance. His voice was barely a whisper. “You should be thankful X39 is so attached to you. Kids like you…they’re normally sent down here. They usually don’t last very long.” Sang-hyuk could only stare at Won-shik in devastation, his eyes watering, but he thankfully didn’t have a chance to respond when someone approached them.

“Won-shik! Fancy seeing you here!” Sang-hyuk watched the man come over to grab Won-shik in a hug, one the latter struggled against despite grinning widely. Sang-hyuk instinctively moved to hide behind Won-shik’s back as they talked to each other, his eyes glancing around to see a boy hovering behind the other man. The boy didn’t look much older than him, just as tall and lanky and looking every bit out of place as Sang-hyuk did. It was a strange feeling, to see someone as young as himself here. It didn’t look right.

It wasn’t right.

“So, is this the boy you were telling me about? Jae-myun’s son?” Sang-hyuk flinched at the sound of his father’s name, peeking up to see both Won-shik and the other man staring down at him. He pressed himself closer to Won-shik, and Won-shik snorted loudly as he patted Sang-hyuk’s shoulder mockingly.

“Yup. Look’s just like him, doesn’t he? But don’t let his looks fool you, he’s really just a big baby.” Won-shik ruffled his hair then, and while Sang-hyuk wanted to protest, the words only got caught in his throat.

The man snickered, though the smile he gave was warm. “Well, hello there, little Sang-hyuk. My name’s Kim Jong-dae. I didn’t get to work much with your father, but if you ever have any problems, you can always ask me. I’m pretty sure Won-shik won’t be much help.” He laughed when Won-shik made a high, chortling sound, slapping him on the arm playfully. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me you’ve been a great mentor. I’m surprised they even picked you in the first place!”

“I’ve been a _terrific_ mentor! Haven’t I, Hyuk?” Won-shik turned to Sang-hyuk with wide eyes, waiting, though when Sang-hyuk could only stare back with even wider eyes, Jong-dae slapped him again, cackling.

“See? You useless piece of shit.” He turned his attention to the boy that had been patiently waiting behind them, gesturing him forward and placing an arm around his shoulders. The boy beamed, an expression Sang-hyuk secretly marveled. “I, on the other hand, have been a super awesome mentor. Sung-jae here can vouch for me. Haven’t I, Jae?”

“Of course!” Sung-jae chirped, grinning.

Won-shik gawked at the two of them before he was grabbing Sang-hyuk’s shoulders, holding him close as if to show him off. “You only say that because you’ve been here longer. Hyukkie here has only been here for a couple weeks and look how amazing he looks! Dressed so nicely and his hair styled—like a true man! You can’t tell me I haven’t been treating him well.” Sang-hyuk ducked his head to hide the way his cheeks burned, his stomach twisting and his lips fighting from breaking out into a wonderful smile. His parents had never complimented him, never once actually looked at him and genuinely praised him. Hak-yeon had—Hak-yeon always had—but to suddenly hear it from a stranger, it…it felt incredible.

“That’s only because of the sponsors, you dumbass. We’ll see in a couple weeks if he’s still looking so clean.” Jong-dae turned to Sang-hyuk, his whole face laughing. “Just remember, Sang-hyuk. You can always come and work with me.” He waited for Won-shik to splutter uselessly before continuing, though his expression hardened considerably. “I’m guessing you two came here because of the sponsors.”

Won-shik turned just as serious, his grip on Sang-hyuk’s shoulders firm. “Yeah. It’s too soon for him to see them.”

Jong-dae nodded, and he glanced down at Sung-jae with pained eyes. “Well…you came on a bad day. We were scheduled to work with the volunteers today.” Sung-jae’s eyes widened in horror while Won-shik cursed under his breath, and the reactions alone had Sang-hyuk’s heart racing. What was that supposed to mean? What were volunteers? “It’s shitty luck, but I’ll do my best to finish quickly. It’s good though…it’s something they’ll have to get used to eventually.”

Won-shik nodded, and when Jong-dae turned to lead them away, Won-shik suddenly leaned down to whisper into Sang-hyuk’s ear, _“Remind me to make sure you dress like this every day. We can’t let him win.”_ It was so random and unexpected, Sang-hyuk couldn’t help the small giggle. Won-shik was confusing and terrifying on most days, but there were still times when he managed to help calm him down.

He was thankful Won-shik was his mentor.

They followed Jong-dae and Sung-jae into an office, the room a little brighter than the dark, depressing place they had been in before. There was a desk and bed, though it was different from how Hong-bin and T52’s rooms had looked. Jong-dae clicked his tongue, casually slapping Won-shik’s chest. “Hey, there’s not enough chairs. We should get a couple so Jae and Sang-hyuk can sit down.” Won-shik looked about to protest until Jong-dae gave him a pointed look, and the two of them silently stepped out of the room.

Sang-hyuk felt a spark of panic shoot through him, unsure what to do without Won-shik. He glanced at Sung-jae to see the other staring at him, smiling that weird smile, and he fought the urge to shudder.

Sung-jae spoke first. “Your name is Han Sang-hyuk, right? Doctor Kim mentioned you a couple times.”

“H-he did?”

“Yeah, though he said you were lucky and got to work with the cyborgs. Is that true? You’re so lucky!” There was nothing accusing in his tone, just curiosity, and it helped calm Sang-hyuk’s nerves somewhat.

“I wouldn’t say lucky…i-is it really that bad down here? Won-shik mentioned something about me being lucky too…”

Sung-jae shrugged his shoulders, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes dimming slightly. It was so subtle Sang-hyuk almost missed it. Almost. “It’s not that bad, down here I mean. Like we don’t have to worry about the sponsors or anything, so I don’t have to dress so fancy.” He pointed at Sang-hyuk’s silk shirt, grinning that ear-splitting smile. Sang-hyuk felt slightly embarrassed, curling in on himself, but Sung-jae was quick to catch himself. “Ah, I don’t mean that in a bad way. You look great! I don’t think I would look half as good wearing that.” His voice was so genuine, his expression so bright; Sang-hyuk only nodded embarrassedly.

“D-do you work with cyborgs too?”

“No. I only work with the volunteers and test subjects. Anything that passes the first stage is beyond what Doctor Kim and I do, so I never got to see one. Are they really cool looking? Like are they all metal with robot arms and red eyes?” Sang-hyuk couldn’t help smiling at Sung-jae’s ridiculous questions, imagining Hong-bin looking like that and finding that Sung-jae would probably be sorely disappointed. “I mean, Doctor Kim told me not to get my hopes up on them being super cool, but I can’t help it. What else am I supposed to do besides looking at stupid tubes and volunteers all day?”

There were those volunteers again, and Sang-hyuk glanced at the door briefly. His fingers clutched at the edge of his shirt, nearly ripping it out from where it was neatly tucked into his pants. “T-the volunteers…what are they?”

Sung-jae’s smile disappeared, his lips pursed. “Stupid people.”

Just then the door burst open with Jong-dae loudly singing that they were back. Both he and Won-shik were carrying a chair, him and Sung-jae both being pushed to sit down when they were done. Sung-jae was laughing again, kicking his legs as he chirped happily along to Jong-dae’s instructions, his demeanor so happy that Sang-hyuk could only stare at him in wonder. How could he be so happy, so _excited_ , when working here? Sang-hyuk…he couldn’t smile even if he wanted to.

Won-shik moved over to Sang-hyuk’s side while Jong-dae worked with Sung-jae, patting him on the shoulder. “You and I aren’t going to be doing much, since we’re not the ones usually working this area. We’re just going to watch.”

Sang-hyuk stared at the other two a second longer before looking up at Won-shik, hesitation tugging at the back of his throat. “W-what are we watching…?”

“You’re going to watch people die.”

The dead seriousness in his voice stopped Sang-hyuk from asking anymore questions, in the end tucking his hands under his legs as he waited. It wasn’t long before the door opened, a nicely dressed woman opening the door to lead a young girl inside. Sang-hyuk jumped at the sight of her, and Won-shik quickly pressed down on his shoulder to hold him still. She was small, pretty, her hair long and dressed in a simple school uniform. She had a flower pin in her hair. She looked so _normal_ , so different from what Sang-hyuk was expecting.

The girl looked over the four of them before Jong-dae stepped forward, smiling attentively. “Hello there! Is your name Kim Na-yoon?” The girl paused for a second before nodding, relaxing slightly when Jong-dae said all the right things to make her comfortable. Sang-hyuk watched as he led her to the elevated bed, helping her sit down. “It’s nice to meet you, miss Na-yoon. Is there anyone with you today?”

“No.” Her voice was airy, delicate, matching her features perfectly. Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he thought of the volunteers, but she definitely wasn’t it. “I came by myself.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“No.”

Jong-dae paused from looking through the folders on his desk, turning to stare at her in concern. “Are you sure this is okay then? I’m sure your parents would want to be here with you.” Sang-hyuk was surprised at the worry in his voice, though when he looked to Sung-jae, he was shocked to see the other staring down at the floor. There was not a trace of the bubbliness from before.

The girl waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t care what they think. This is a lot cooler than studying all day.” Sang-hyuk was confused by her words, not understanding, though he seemed to be the only one, everyone else’s expressions hardening. Jong-dae went back to flipping through his folders with his brow furrowed, and the girl took that moment to look around, her eyes catching Sang-hyuk’s. Her eyes were big, innocent, and she blinked at him.

“Why are there so many people here?” she asked, her gaze never leaving Sang-hyuk’s.

Jong-dae took out a piece of paper, attaching it to a clipboard before turning around. His smile was colder, though all the more inviting. It was a terrifying combination, and one Sang-hyuk saw the girl didn’t notice. “Sung-jae and Sang-hyuk here are new, so they’re just observing. Is that okay with you?” The girl hesitated, her eyes still on Sang-hyuk, before nodding slowly. Her cheeks were flushed, and Sang-hyuk wondered if she was nervous. He certainly was.

“Sung-jae, why don’t you start the preparations while I tell miss Na-yoon how the test is going to work.”

Sung-jae shot out of his seat with a big smile, moving over to the desk and pulling a large syringe out of the desk drawer. While he filled the syringe with a strange, blue liquid, Jong-dae started explaining, his voice smooth like silk. “Now, I just want to go over the procedure with you first, and if you’re okay with everything up to that point, just sign this waiver. Then we can get started; how does that sound?” Jong-dae sounded so kind, just enough to distract the girl and make her at ease.

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice so sweet. Sang-hyuk would always remember her voice.

“Perfect! So, we’re going to give you the shot first. It’ll knock you out for a little bit, but that’s normal. Once you’re awake, we’ll run the test and get back to you once we have the results. How does that sound?”

The girl paused, biting her lip before asking slowly, “How long will it take? I skipped school…I don’t want my parents noticing I’m gone for too long.”

Jong-dae let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Such a naughty girl. School’s important, you know? But don’t worry, you’ll be up and at ‘em in no time. I doubt your parents will notice a thing.” The girl let out a relieved sigh at that, her shoulders slumping, and Jong-dae took that moment to put the clipboard in her hand. “So, if you can just sign here, we can get started!”

The girl grinned as she signed her name, just a quick flick of her wrist and it was done. Sang-hyuk watched as Sung-jae came over with the syringe, the liquid now clear, and pressed it into Jong-dae’s hand. The two of them shared a long look before Jong-dae held the needle up to the girl’s arm, taking a moment to look her in the eye.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Sang-hyuk could hear the hidden meaning behind his words. The girl heard no such thing, only agreeing excitedly, and then Jong-dae was emptying the contents into her arm.

It was as if time stopped, everyone’s eyes locked on the girl that sat completely still, her eyes watching in fascination at the small puncture wound on her arm. The only sound was the small clicking of the clock hanging on the wall, the syringe forgotten on the side table, the air suddenly so thick it was suffocating. Sang-hyuk struggled to stay still, Won-shik’s hand digging painfully into his shoulder, and he had to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from saying anything. He glanced at Sung-jae to see him staring at the girl with nothing in his eyes, and he realized that this was something he had seen too many times.

Nothing happened right away, the girl shifting every so often, until she moved her hand to hover over her arm, her mouth pulled down into a small grimace. She hissed as she looked to Jong-dae for help, a spark of worry in her eyes. “Doctor, sir, um, is it supposed to hurt? It kinda hurts.” She coughed uncomfortably as she started to absentmindedly scratch at the wound, and Jong-dae tsked softly as he grabbed her hand.

“None of that, sweetheart. Unfortunately, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“W-what?” she managed to ask before her coughs became louder, heavier, her face twisting in pain as she wrenched her hand away to scratch furiously at her arm. She started shaking her head, her hair flinging back and forth, as she screamed, tears rushing down her face. “It hurts! It hurts! Stop it, please! It hurts!” Her screams became sobs, falling back on the bed as she cried, her chest heaving as she fruitlessly kicked her legs. “Mom! Dad! Please, help me! It hurts! Help me, please!”

Her scratches became worse, chunks of skin catching under her fingernails, and Jong-dae shot up from his chair. “Won-shik,” he said, voice cold, and Won-shik was suddenly by his side, reaching out and holding the girl’s head still. Jong-dae moved swiftly to strap the girl’s arms and legs down, attaching one across her waist. The girl’s cries dissolved into garbled pleading, her face red and covered in tears, and Sang-hyuk found he couldn’t look away. She had been so pretty, so soft and sweet—was _this_ a volunteer?

_Stupid people._

Suddenly the girl’s screams stopped short, her body collapsing in a tired heap, and both Jong-dae and Won-shik were panting as they stepped back. Sang-hyuk stared at the girl’s body, watching how her chest shook with each breath, her limbs trembling, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Sang-hyuk wanted to throw up as the two of them unstrapped her body, Jong-dae going out and calling for someone to take the girl away. She…what were they going to do to her? She still had to go to school. Her parents were waiting for her. His eyes stared at the long, throbbing welts down her arm, the skin mangled—

He nearly screamed when a cup of water was suddenly pushed in front of him, and he looked up to see Sung-jae smiling bitterly down at him. His hands shook as he carefully took the glass, downing the cup in one shot. Sung-jae sat down next to him, his eyes never looking away from Sang-hyuk’s face. “You asked earlier what the volunteers were,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, there you go.”

“H-how…? Did she k-know?”

Sung-jae shook his head. “They have an idea, but they don’t know how bad the effects will be. They’re literally being cleared out and having their bodies changed, of course the process won’t be easy.” He stayed quiet as the girl was transferred to a cart, watching as she was wheeled out of the room. Jong-dae and Won-shik followed, leaving them alone. “A lot of the people are actually willing…they think they’ll become some cool robot with big arms and red eyes.” Sung-jae let out a small chuckle, though the sound was anything but happy. “A lot of them don’t make it. Even if they do, they die in the later tests…that’s why T52 and X39 are so special. They survived. Unlike that girl, unlike the thousands of others who volunteered and even the ones that didn’t—they survived. That’s why only the really special get to work with them.”

Sung-jae let out a soft sigh, staring blankly at the wall, his eyes flush with unshed tears that stained his cheeks and broke his voice. “You know, I was a little jealous when I heard that you got to work upstairs and not have to see this down here. But…I’m glad you’re not.”

Sang-hyuk looked up from his empty cup to stare at him, and Sung-jae smiled.

“You really wouldn’t last.”

 

And Sung-jae was right.

Sang-hyuk only managed to sit through two more volunteers before he was huddled over a toilet, Won-shik silently patting his back as he emptied everything in his stomach, horrified tears mixing with the bile that ran down his chin and stained his teeth.

No matter what, he would much rather stare at Hong-bin’s blank eyes and empty answers than stay down here another minute.

He really wouldn’t last.

\--

Won-shik took him back upstairs not much later after that, deciding it best not to force him to watch anymore. While he tried to hide it behind harsh words and mean jokes, Sang-hyuk could see Won-shik was really worried about him, his grip strong around his shoulders and his other hand held firmly in Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk didn’t have the energy to respond to any of Won-shik’s jabs, his body weak as he leaned against Won-shik’s chest. He felt bad; he was sure the hair Won-shik had painstakingly styled through much trial and error was all messed up now. He would apologize later, if he remembered.

“Come on, kiddo,” Won-shik murmured as he helped him along, most people scurrying out of their way. “We’ll— _fuck_.”

Sang-hyuk tiredly lifted his head to see a group of people turn the corner and enter the main lobby, Joon-myeon at the front as he gestured animatedly. Won-shik attempted to shuffle back, hiding Sang-hyuk behind him, but Sang-hyuk couldn’t help but try and get a peek.

There were ten of them, the sponsors. They matched their name perfectly, each standing so prim and proper as if they were above everyone else. It was strange seeing how hard Joon-myeon, a man that Sang-hyuk had come to fear greatly, worked to keep their attention, his face smiling while his eyes cried, talking about everything in an overly enthusiastic tone. But it was something these people were able to do.

“Shit, here, can you stand up?” Won-shik hissed, twisting around to get Sang-hyuk to stand up straight. Sang-hyuk struggled, but he managed, and Won-shik gave him a small smile. Won-shik stole a glance at the sponsors before hurriedly licking his fingertips, raking his hand through Sang-hyuk’s hair to try and make him presentable. Sang-hyuk was too tired to react.

“Ah, Kim Won-shik!” Both of them stiffened at Joon-myeon’s call, Won-shik plastering on a fake smile as he turned around in greeting. All the sponsors were staring at the two of them, their scrutinizing glares picking them apart with each passing second, but that wasn’t what made Sang-hyuk’s blood run cold, or what made his heart want to burst from his chest. Won-shik’s returning greeting faded to mere background noise as Sang-hyuk focused on two people in particular, his breath faltering.

That man…he had seen that same nose on the person he loved, had traced that same nose countless times. That was Hak-yeon’s nose. The woman beside him, the woman who stood a distance from him—she had Hak-yeon’s eyes. The gentle slope of the eyelids that ended in soft lashes, ones that Sang-hyuk had stared at for hours on end while Hak-yeon laid next to him, going on about whatever ridiculous story came to mind. He could see the softness of his cheeks on her, the shape of his jaw, and he wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time.

They couldn’t…

He couldn’t…

Did he…?

No, he couldn’t. But they were there. They were real.

And so was he.

He had only met Hak-yeon’s parents once, and while he never would’ve been able to recount their appearance if asked, staring now, it was all he could see.

He was brought back by a hard pinch to his side, and he felt his body forced into a deep bow as Won-shik kept his hand firmly on his back. When he stood up, he was greeted by Joon-myeon’s dangerous gaze, punishment waiting if he messed this up. He forced a small smile in greeting, and it seemed to be enough as Joon-myeon stepped forward to give introductions.

“I’m sure you remember Han Jae-myun,” he said, and Sang-hyuk didn’t miss the way the sponsors’ faces hardened at his father’s name. He watched as Hak-yeon’s mother gave a quick, pursed look to her husband, the man refusing to meet her eye. “This is his son, Han Sang-hyuk.”

And suddenly everyone’s full attention was on him, running over him as if to find anything wrong, ready to find any fault to exploit. His body trembled despite himself, and Won-shik’s hand on his back stiffened. One woman tilted her head, her eyes sharp as she laughed lightly.

“He’s such a tiny thing. What could he possibly do?”

“He’s actually done a lot in the time he’s been here. He was the one who successfully cleared X39 of the viruses. He shows a lot of promise.” That had the woman nodding her head, the rest of them seeming to begrudgingly accept—all except Hak-yeon’s parents. Their eyes refused to move, their displeasure still obvious, and Sang-hyuk wondered if they knew. If they knew their son was with him. He wondered if they were even looking for him.

The sponsors seemed to lose interest in him after that, letting Joon-myeon lead them out, taking the suffocating tenseness with them. Won-shik groaned obnoxiously the moment they were gone, falling into a nearby chair as he dragged Sang-hyuk down with him. Sang-hyuk was thankful to sit down, leaning his head against the backrest, gasping for air. “God, I hate them,” Won-shik muttered, his eyes closed. “I always feel like they’re stripping me with their eyes. Rather keep myself clothed, if you know what I mean. Gotta keep my dignity, you know?”

Won-shik’s joke fell on deaf ears, Sang-hyuk turning to stare at him with the hardest glare he could muster. “Won-shik. Did you know?”

Won-shik didn’t answer for a while, his eyes closed and his expression clouded. Finally, “…yes.”

“Do they?”

“No.”

“How? Don’t they know he’s-”

“They don’t know anything, Sang-hyuk.” Won-shik opened his eyes to match his glare, his voice laced with resignment. “The sponsors don’t know a lot about what goes on here. And we plan to keep it that way. All they know is we’re experimenting, and we only show them the results. If they knew about what we did to get there, do you think they’d still be willing to fund us? And if they knew what they did to make sure we _stayed_ working here, do you think they’d be happy?”

“But-”

“What are you going to do? Go up to them and tell them their son is with you? What do you think that’ll do? Besides pissing Joon-myeon off?”

Sang-hyuk knew he was right, though it did nothing to make him feel better. He turned his gaze back to the ceiling, feeling a deep, indescribable pain bubble in his chest. “They…they didn’t even look worried. He’s been gone for weeks now, and they didn’t look like they even noticed.” He felt tears in his eyes, frustrated tears that were more than from just how shitty Hak-yeon’s parents were. This whole time…Hak-yeon never talked much about his parents, always avoiding the subject, but Sang-hyuk had never pressed him either. There was no way…Hak-yeon couldn’t have known…

“Hey.” Sang-hyuk jumped when he felt knuckles rap lightly on the side of his head, and he blinked confusedly to see Won-shik staring at him. “Don’t think too much into it. I mean, how much did you know before we brought you here?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, _couldn’t,_ Won-shik continued. “Hak-yeon probably has no idea either. You two have something really special. Don’t fuck it up because of his parents.”

Sang-hyuk _knew_ that, and there wasn’t a single part of him that blamed Hak-yeon in any way. Hak-yeon was his world and more. There was no way he could blame him for something like this. The only one he could fault was fate for giving them such terrible positions in the first place.

\--

Sang-hyuk was absolutely exhausted by the time he stumbled through the apartment door, rubbing at his eyes as the horrid smell of burnt cheese wafted through the room. He could hear a hurried rush of censored curses coming from the kitchen, followed by a loud crash, and Sang-hyuk scrambled to the sound, stopping short at the sight of Hak-yeon bending down to gingerly pick up a smoking pan of…something.

Sang-hyuk felt a flurry of emotions clench his heart, his whole body feeling like lead as he watched Hak-yeon flap his hand uselessly at the smoke, throwing the pan in the sink and turning the water on. As he stood there, he found himself unable to look away from Hak-yeon’s back, staring at the shoulders that he had envied for so many years. Hak-yeon had been where his parents hadn’t, raising and loving him in a way that left Sang-hyuk wishing to be just like him, to grow in a way that would have Hak-yeon basking in pride. Hak-yeon had been more than a friend, and as he watched Hak-yeon turn, revealing the same cheeks and soft eyes that he had seen just earlier, the same nose that had seemed so out of place, he could feel his lower lip tremble in suppressed grief.

Hak-yeon’s parents had been sponsoring the work his father had been doing. They had been aware of what had been done to Hong-bin, aware and _willing_ as Hong-bin’s humanity was worked away until only the result was left. He refused to believe Hak-yeon knew anything about it, but he couldn’t help the small niggling feeling of despair. He couldn’t have known—he thought of the wonderful, beautiful image of Hak-yeon, warm and familiar as he poked and prodded Sang-hyuk to stop studying so much, to enjoy his life and laugh his worries away—there was no way he could have known.

Hak-yeon let out a heavy sigh when the smoke finally dissipated, turning and letting out a small yelp in surprise at Sang-hyuk hovering by the door. He broke into a wide smile, quickly untying his apron and rushing to give him a warm hug. Sang-hyuk fought to keep his growing emotions in check as he grabbed Hak-yeon fiercely, holding him as if it was his last time.

No matter what, Hak-yeon was Hak-yeon. It didn’t matter what he knew.

He would love him no matter what.

Hak-yeon grunted at Sang-hyuk’s hard grip, leaning back to try and get a look at his face, his voice soft. “Hyukkie?”

“I love you,” Sang-hyuk whispered, his voice muffled from his face being pressed into Hak-yeon’s shirt. He smelt mostly of smoke, but buried deep underneath was Hak-yeon’s scent, a scent of warm lavender and sweet honey.

Hak-yeon stiffened at his words, though he eventually brought a hand up to run through Sang-hyuk’s hair, sighing deeply. “I love you too, baby.” He paused for a short time, his words careful. “Did anything happen at work today?”

Flashes of Hak-yeon’s parents staring at him, dissecting him—he shook his head as he pulled back to give Hak-yeon a cheery smile. It felt so fake, like his face would crack and crumble if tried any harder. “Nothing much. Though Won-shik says I’m getting better. He even praised me today.”

Hak-yeon laughed as he pressed a kiss to Sang-hyuk’s forehead, his grin genuine and his eyes full of pride. Sang-hyuk wanted to hold onto that for the rest of his life. “Of course he should praise you! My Hyukkie is the smartest!” It was then he finally looked down to see his clothes, his mouth dropping open and his hands frozen as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He eventually covered his mouth, letting out an obnoxious squeal and bouncing like a child, looking so absolutely _proud._ Sang-hyuk reveled in it.

“Oh my _god,_ look at you! Did Won-shik give you that? You look _amazing_ , Sang-hyuk! So _handsome!_ I wish I had a camera!”

Sang-hyuk felt himself laugh despite himself, feeling everything from work—the basement, the volunteers, the sponsors, _Hak-yeon’s parents—_ disappear as he let Hak-yeon twirl him this way and that, wanting to see every angle. He let Hak-yeon’s bright voice and ecstatic excitement guide him, his eyes scrunching up happily as Hak-yeon squished his cheeks lovingly in his hands. At that moment, he felt nothing but love, a love that no one else could ever give him. Not his parents, not Won-shik, not even Hong-bin—no, this was a love that only Hak-yeon could give. It was a love that felt like home, a love that made him feel safe and protected, where everything in that moment was right in the world. Where nothing could touch him save for the soft brush of the man who gave it to him.

He loved Hak-yeon, and as Hak-yeon covered his face in kisses and filled his ears with exaggerated praises, he decided then that he would never tell Hak-yeon about anything he did. He would never let Hak-yeon anywhere near the dark hell that he entered every day, would never let him see the horrors that he had to. He would never tell Hak-yeon about his parents, or about how they didn’t seem to miss him.

He decided then that he would step up and protect the man he loved, and he would make sure that Hak-yeon would always smile like this, and would never feel anything but happiness.

He would make sure of it.


	22. Unequal

It was almost like clockwork, Sang-hyuk’s hands moving on muscle memory alone as he pulled the cable out from Hong— _X39’s_ chest, his eyes refusing to watch how the latter’s eyes flashed a bright blue as he woke. He could feel Won-shik’s eyes on him from the corner of the room, Won-shik having led him through the procedure enough times to try and let Sang-hyuk do it on his own. He wasn’t sure he was really ready, but as he watched Hong— _X39 goddamnit—_ shift and listened to the way his limbs creaked and cracked, he shoved that terrified feeling to the farthest part of his mind.

He kept his expression neutral as he closed X39’s chest, ignoring the prickling of his skin when there was no shirt to cover him with. It was a reality he had yet to accept, leaving the cyborgs naked and exposed, supposedly so people wouldn’t feel sympathetic or sad. An image of Hong-bin in his father’s office, clothed and free and _happy_ flashed in his mind, and again he shoved that away so fast he barely acknowledged it passed.

“Hello, X39,” he greeted, a necessity only to make sure the cyborg’s hearing was working.

“Hello,” X39 responded, a response that checked to make sure the cyborg’s vocal cords were fine. He refused to feel broken at how empty the response was, how there was nothing beyond answering a simple question. No recognition, no acknowledgment.

He steeled himself. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

He took a deep breath, curling his fingers into tight fists as he felt Won-shik’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He had to stay level. If he started crying, he knew they would force him out and he wouldn’t get to see Hong-bin for a couple days at least. He had to be strong. He didn’t want anyone else working with him if he could help it; he had seen how T52 was treated. He didn’t want anything like that happening to Hong-bin.

He gave a small smile despite the many times Won-shik had scolded him, unable to stay expressionless. “My name’s Sang-hyuk. Can…can you say that for me?”

“Sang-hyuk.”

“G-good. Do you know your name?”

“No.”

Joon-myeon would be furious once he saw the results; it’s been a month at least. Everyone had been convinced he would’ve been able to solve all their problems, and thought X39 would’ve followed along to his every word with the conviction of a marionette. But of course he wouldn’t. They had erased everything that had made X39 _Hong-bin,_ and in turn stripped Sang-hyuk of any power he might’ve had. They had left Hong-bin empty, a shell, and there was nothing Sang-hyuk could do to change that.

 “Your name is X39.” Hong-bin’s eyes flashed, something Sang-hyuk had long convinced himself meant nothing. And as he listened to X39 repeat the words, he found himself smiling despite himself.

He knew he would forget it by the next session.  

\--

Sang-hyuk let out a stuttering gasp as the freezing water splashed over his face, taking a second to clench his fingers, his chest heaving. Ice cold water was a terrible way to wake up, but it did the job, his brain jolting awake and his skin crawling with furious goosebumps. His body groaned in protest, his head pounding, but he did his best to ignore it; while he had gone to bed only a few hours ago, he knew he had no choice but to force himself awake.

He glanced at the clock and grimaced to see he had only a short half hour before the cameras would be up again, and that meant he had only thirty minutes to get T52 back in the bathroom. He shook the wet droplets from his hair before drying his face, feeling not the least bit surprised when he headed to the living room to see Hak-yeon and T52 huddled on the couch, both on either ends with only a short distance between their toes. Sang-hyuk wished he could sigh, but the sight only brought a bitter smile to his lips.

Hak-yeon refused to look at T52 as anything other than another human being, ignoring all the glaring reasons why he shouldn’t. He excused T52’s blotchy, bloodless skin as a simple skin defect, instead secretly rubbing his multiple skin creams over it despite the many times Sang-hyuk pleaded him not to. He ignored T52’s constant restarting, all the patience he had built for Sang-hyuk keeping him calm and collected as he merely re-greeted himself to the cyborg. Hak-yeon doted on T52, piling him under sweaters and cardigans to keep him warm and coddled, perching himself on the couch to lovingly run his fingers through the latter’s hair. Sang-hyuk knew he shouldn’t, knew deep down that he should keep Hak-yeon far away to keep him _safe_ …but he couldn’t.

With T52, Hak-yeon was happy.

That was true even now, Sang-hyuk peeking around the corner to see Hak-yeon laughing at something T52 said, carefully cradling his steaming cup of tea to his chest as he reached over to slap at the latter playfully. T52 smiled back, matching his expression perfectly while having no idea why he was laughing, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the edges of the afghan Hak-yeon had covered him with. Hak-yeon asked him something, his eyes curled into bright crescents, and Sang-hyuk found the world slowing to a grinding halt, everything dulled except for the sight of pure happiness on Hak-yeon’s face.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time Hak-yeon had smiled like that, for him or otherwise. There had been a time when Hak-yeon always smiled like that, but the memories at this point were so blurred Sang-hyuk could do nothing but wave the thought away. He couldn’t help but feel guilty that it had been _him_ that made Hak-yeon like this, and he knew he would never be able to take that back.

He slapped on the biggest smile he could when T52 finally noticed him, greeting him automatically, and Hak-yeon whirled around with his teeth flashing. “Hyukkie!” he called happily, waving him over. “Sorry if we were too loud; did we wake you up?” Sang-hyuk could see the instinctual need to help push Hak-yeon to stand up, and he quickly rushed forward to sit him back down.

“No, I was already awake. How long have you been up?” Hak-yeon’s brow furrowed slightly at him, watching him until Sang-hyuk sat in the nearby armchair, his fingers around his mug tightening.

“About an hour. I just wanted to keep Hong-binnie some company. I know he gets lonely sitting in the bathroom all day.” Sang-hyuk winced at the name, fully aware of how wide T52’s smile grew, and he had to gnaw on his lip to keep his face neutral. Hak-yeon reached out and put a hand over T52’s knee, kneading gently in a way that had T52’s eyes fluttering closed. Fondness exuded from every cell of Hak-yeon’s body, and a sudden rush of jealousy that he was quick to suppress surged through Sang-hyuk. He couldn’t be mad at T52 for letting Hak-yeon treat him kindly, it was something he deserved as much as anyone else, but…

…Hak-yeon only did that to _him._ Seeing him so soft and gentle with anyone else…it hurt him.

Sang-hyuk cleared his throat, feeling the tight constraints on his chest loosening when he saw Hak-yeon pull his hand back. He made sure to keep his eyes locked firmly with T52’s, a silent warning as he asked calmly, “How are you today, T52?”

T52 noticed none of it, his mood cheery as he responded, “I am fine. Hak-yeon has been telling me many stories. I like it very much.”

Sang-hyuk’s returning smile was less forced, unable to be angry when the innocent naivety behind T52’s words was so clear. “That’s great! Though I hope none of them were about me.” He shot a playful look to Hak-yeon only to see the latter grinning shamelessly.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell embarrassing stories about my favorite baby?” He took a casual sip of his tea when Sang-hyuk pouted at him, and T52 looked between the two of them confusedly, unable to understand the double meaning behind their actions. Instead of voicing his question, like he had been wont to do back in the lab with Sang-hyuk, he reached forward and tugged on Hak-yeon’s sleeve, wordlessly frowning at him. Hak-yeon’s eyes widened in understanding, a conversation all their own that Sang-hyuk was frustratingly not a part of, and he placed his tea aside as he immediately cupped his hands around T52’s cheeks, comforting him softly.

“Ah, don’t be confused, Hong-bin. I was only teasing Sang-hyuk. He’s not upset, right, Hyukkie?” Sang-hyuk blinked when he suddenly felt both of them staring at him, and he quickly nodded. Hak-yeon smiled gratefully at him before turning his attention back to Hong-bin, patting the latter’s cheeks. “See? I’ll explain better next time.”

“I understand,” T52 said, his words muffled between Hak-yeon’s hands, though he made no move to pull away. “I will try to understand better next time.”

Hak-yeon ran a hand through T52’s hair, the locks soft and smooth from how much Hak-yeon spent cleaning it, and Sang-hyuk felt it was time to stop.

“Alright, I think it’s time for T52 to go back. We don’t want to chance anything.” He could see both Hak-yeon and T52’s expressions fall at the mention of the bathroom, both knowing what he meant, though neither said anything. Hak-yeon pulled his hands away, T52 noticeably following after him. Sang-hyuk hurriedly stood up, clearing his throat. “Follow me, T52.”

T52 immediately followed his command, standing to his full height, and they all watched as the afghan fell to the floor. Nobody made a move to pick it up, and Sang-hyuk felt a vindictive victory as he silently led T52 back to the bathroom. He hated that he felt anything other than pity when looking at the cyborg, and he tried to give him a friendly goodbye—only to see the cyborg reset the moment he stepped into bathroom.

It wasn’t until hours later that he realized T52 hadn’t restarted once when with Hak-yeon.

\--

Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure when it started that his heart would automatically begin to race the moment he stepped into the lab, his eyes instinctively glancing around to see if anyone was watching him. It had been barely a week since T52 escaped, and the habits were already drilled in, his skin always crawling as if waiting for someone to accuse him. He knew he had to get rid of the cyborg as soon as possible, throw him out and erase any trace of his connection before T52 got too attached, and he told himself the reason he was waiting so long was because he wanted to make sure no one suspected him. He told himself that…but when he saw the way Hak-yeon would light up around T52, how he would spend countless hours with the latter settled in his lap and playing with his hair, he knew the real reason why.

So, he kept to himself, making himself as inconspicuous as possible to hopefully throw any suspicions away. It worked for the most part, nobody bothering him as he went through his days like normal, testing and talking with Hong-bin before eventually stumbling home. He avoided looking in places he shouldn’t, which was why the supposedly obvious announcement that T52 was put ‘under review’ and Chan-yeol had been ‘transferred’ was new to him.

“…Chan-sik?” The small intern’s head snapped up at the sound of Sang-hyuk’s hesitant question, scrambling up from where he had been huddled by Sang-hyuk’s office door. Sang-hyuk was surprised by how weathered and hollow the latter looked, his usually sparkling eyes outlined by heavy bags, small wrinkles creasing around his eyes from a lack of sleep. Chan-sik gave a heavy sniffle as he shivered under his lab coat, rubbing his nose as he gave Sang-hyuk a polite bow.

“I-I’m sorry for bothering you, Sang-hyuk, sir,” Chan-sik murmured, his voice hoarse. “B-but they assigned me under you…I was told to wait here.”

“What?” Sang-hyuk answered intelligently, waiting a few seconds for the smaller boy to deliver the punchline, eventually glancing around to see if someone was trying to pull a terrible joke. But when Chan-sik did nothing but stare at him sullenly, near trembling, he quickly coughed to hide his flushed cheeks. “A-ah, I wasn’t aware of that. Here, why don’t you come into my office? We can talk more there.”

Chan-sik gratefully said nothing as he let Sang-hyuk lead him inside, and Sang-hyuk inwardly floundered about what to do. He thought back to what Won-shik had done when Sang-hyuk first started working here, racing to grab a chair and awkwardly offer it to him. Chan-sik thanked him softly, his eyes trained on the floor as he hunched his shoulders in on himself, and Sang-hyuk had no idea what to do as he eventually sat at his desk.

Sang-hyuk had _no_ idea what to do. He had never been in charge of anyone before, nobody trusting him to look after _himself_ let alone another human being. Even Won-shik, who had finished mentoring him years ago, still occasionally came to check up on him, just to make sure he didn’t hurt or kill himself from just sheer lack of common sense. But here he was, Chan-sik suddenly appearing in front of him and the apparent order to _mentor_ him suddenly thrust upon him.

He was _fucked._

“Uh…” Sang-hyuk eventually started, his face flushing again at how stupid he sounded, “I wasn’t informed of anything, so, could you, um, repeat that for me?”

Chan-sik glanced up at him, his pale lips pursed into a thin line. “I-I was assigned under you. They told me to wait for your orders.”

Sang-hyuk immediately looked through the papers on his desk, the pile overflowing from how little Sang-hyuk actually went into his office, Chan-sik’s eyes trained on him as he did so. He tossed useless reports aside, some so old he was sure the paper was yellowing, and paused when a simple envelope fluttered to the floor, his name handwritten on the front. Sang-hyuk blinked, glancing at Chan-shik briefly before picking the small letter up, wondering who actually took the time to write him a letter. No one wrote anything here, save for the constant test reports, let alone an actual letter. He wanted to see who it was from, but knew that would have to wait when he could feel Chan-sik’s eyes burrowing into his head.

He eventually found the newest invoice directed to him, stating that Park Chan-yeol had been transferred to a different sector, and that his intern would thereafter be placed under Sang-hyuk. He blinked at the offending note, confusion clouding his mind, when Chan-sik coughed uncomfortably.

“T-they said he was transferred, but he…he wasn’t. Professor Park told me what was going to happen before he left. They…they k-killed him.” Chan-sik’s voice shook as he spoke, tears glossing over his eyes as he struggled to stay calm.

Sang-hyuk let out a soft sigh as he gently placed the invoice down, swallowing. He would miss Chan-yeol. “If that’s what he said, then it’s probably true. No one is safe if they mess up.”

“But he didn’t mess up!” Chan-sik suddenly shouted, his cheeks coloring once he realized he’d raised his voice. “P-Professor Park didn’t do anything wrong. They just suddenly took T52 out for ‘special testing’, and then all of a sudden told Professor Park he was being transferred. Professor Park hadn’t done anything and was confused too about what was happening. I…I don’t understand why they k-killed him.”

Sang-hyuk started at that. “T52 went out for special testing?”

Chan-sik hesitated, uncomfortable under Sang-hyuk’s sudden attention. “It was officially put under review. They didn’t tell us why or anything. They just said to wait for further instructions…Professor Park was so nervous the whole time.”

Sang-hyuk felt a cold sweat break out over his skin as harrowing understanding slowly dawned on him, stomach bile rushing up his throat and threatening to force itself all over himself. Under review…sudden testing…transferring—there was only one reason why all those things would appear at once, and Sang-hyuk hated the growing realization that seeped into his every pore at the reason _why._

Never would they openly announce that one of their cyborgs had disappeared under their noses, and never would they make a scene to search for him. Of course they would keep everything under wraps, letting only the most important ears aware as they did everything to make sure no one would find out. A useless excuse for the cyborg’s sudden disappearance, a quick action to get rid of the man in charge to stop any questions, a friendly, seemingly understanding transfer of the man’s intern to another cyborg—it would keep any curious eyes away, and would keep the sponsors sated. It was smart, though the cleverness of the higher ups was the last thing on Sang-hyuk’s mind as the pulsing, repeating reason _why_ continued to bash itself against the inside of his skull.

This all happened because T52 was with _him._ Because Sang-hyuk had been too much of a spineless bastard to return the cyborg. Because Sang-hyuk had been so concerned about Hak-yeon’s happiness and T52’s limited freedom to even think about what the repercussions for everyone else involved would be. Chan-yeol was dead because of _him_ and _him_ alone, and that information was enough to cause his whole body to shake and his mouth to fill with bile.

Chan-sik noticed his reaction and stiffened, worry filling his tired eyes. “Han Sang-hyuk, sir? A-are you alright? You’re really pale-”

“P-please leave,” Sang-hyuk managed, his voice trembling as much as the rest of him, and he gripped the edge of his desk to help control himself. “I-I’ll give you o-orders later. Just…I need to be alone.”

Chan-sik nodded understandingly before rushing out of the room, the slam of the door behind him all Sang-hyuk needed before he was vomiting his entire breakfast all over the nauseatingly spotless floor, his body collapsing to the floor. He couldn’t care less that his lab coat was covered in the remnants of his breakfast, his one-track mind focused entirely on crawling under his desk, curling into a pathetic ball as he let himself succumb to the crushing sobs that were desperate to escape. It had been a long time since Sang-hyuk had felt so weak that he let all the walls he forced himself to hold up crumble to the ground, and this time now felt infinitely worse.

How could he not have thought about what would happen to Chan-yeol when he first brought T52 home? How could he not have thought of what would happen when he decided to wait before bringing him back?

When just this morning he was obliviously enjoying the sight of Hak-yeon laughing and playing with T52, Chan-yeol was taking his last breath, the last remnants of unforgiving fate sucking him away.

When he had been so caught up in being jealous of Hak-yeon’s affection for a cyborg, Chan-yeol had been killed.

When he had been selfish, Chan-yeol had paid the price.

It was a long time later that he slowly returned to himself, his body unbearably cold and exhausted as his long wails turned to soft whimpers. He trembled as he wiped his ruddy cheeks, his eyes burning, and he winced when the sharp corner of thick paper scratched his cheek. He blinked down to see the handwritten letter crushed between his fingers, and he let out a childish hiccup as he unfolded it enough to see his name. Had Chan-yeol sent this? He couldn’t see why when they never interacted much and nobody knew that it was all Sang-hyuk’s fault, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

He let out another hiccup as he tore the envelope open, struggling a bit to pull the small letter out. It was a simple letter, barely a page, written in messy handwriting with numerous words and even paragraphs scratched out. Whoever had written it had been pressed for time, and knowing what he did now, Sang-hyuk understood.

That was until he read the name of the sender, and his heart stopped for a second time that day.

 

_Hyukkie…_

_I’m sorry. I know I should be strong like you, but I can’t. I tried telling myself to be strong for her, but every day I feel as if the world is closing around me. I can’t. I’m sorry for ever thinking you were weak; I can barely stand looking at myself when I remember what I’ve done, I can’t imagine what you must feel every day._

_I thought long and hard about what you said…and you’re right. I guess I lasted this long because I convinced myself that the cyborgs weren’t human. But they’re human, just as much as Byullie was and still is. That’s why I wanted to do something. A couple days ago I heard a couple of the guys working down in the basement talking about T52, and heard they were going to terminate ~~it~~ him because of how well X39 was changing. I was originally going to pretend I didn’t hear, but then you invited me to drinks and told me about how they’re people too, and… I can’t just ignore it. _

_So, I’m writing this to you as a last goodbye. I wish I could’ve said it in person, but I don’t want to risk your or Hak-yeon’s safety because of my selfishness. I’m going to run away with my mom the moment this is done, and hopefully if everything turns out well, I’ll be living happily somewhere with my mom and you and Hak-yeon will finally get together and be the happy couple everyone knows you are. Hopefully you’re not dragged into this and by the time you read this, you’ll just be confused on what I’m talking about. I really liked you Hyuk. I wish we could’ve run away together, but I know how much you worry._

_Please destroy this the moment you finish reading it—I don’t want you to get hurt because of me._

_Be happy, and be safe._

_Sung-jae_

 

The crumbled paper was dotted with heavy tears by the time he finally managed to finish, his one hand stuffed between his teeth to keep his scream-filled wails muffled. Sung-jae…he had noticed his friend missing the past few days, but he had only given the man a few confused thoughts before turning to more important things. He had just assumed his friend was sick, or hiding in the basement because of Byul. How…how long had Sung-jae been suffering, that he would write something like this to him? How long ago had he actually _written_ this? If Sung-jae had really run away—

He burst out from under his desk, disregarding the searing pain from bumping his head against the corner, tripping over himself before rushing out of his office and straight towards the basement. He ignored the strange looks sent his way as he bypassed the elevator entirely, going straight for the stairs and going down two at a time.

There was no way to run away. He knew this, Sung-jae knew this, hell, even Hak-yeon knew this, yet Sung-jae did anyway. After helping T52 escape, Sung-jae tried to run away. Everything he did led to only one possibility, and with the unknown amount of time since Sung-jae had written the letter, there was only one place his friend could be.

There was no way he could escape.

Which was how Sang-hyuk ended up in the basement, looking like a madman with his coat hanging off his shoulders drenched in vomit and tears, looking into each tube to see the face inside. He for once couldn’t be bothered to take the time to see who they were or how young they were, only searching for one face and one only. He could hear his name being shouted and the sound of things clattering, more than likely the IVs he was pushing around, but he couldn’t stop. Nothing could stop him until he finally found what he was looking for, and he felt his knees buckle beneath him and his body collapse to the floor.

There, with his eyes closed and his body forced asleep, was Sung-jae. His bright, cheery friend who managed to brighten the dark basement a little every day. His friend that always tried to make him smile, who told jokes and laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. His friend who had all but been destroyed when he finally successfully had a subject survive the first test. Tears flooded his eyes as he dragged himself back up, forcing himself to stare into the small window to stare at his friend’s face. Sung-jae’s face.

From what he could see, there were no marks that signaled a struggle or pain. He looked to be only asleep, like he would snap his eyes open and scream playfully like the many times he used to prank Sang-hyuk when they were younger. Sang-hyuk had always hated it, embarrassed and ashamed when he would screech in fear; but now he wished for it, pleading silently for Sung-jae to just get it over with and scare him. He promised he would laugh. He wouldn’t be angry. He wouldn’t yell at him. He would laugh. He would laugh as much as he wanted if only he would just open his eyes.

“Han Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, whirling around to see a couple men he’d seen hanging around Sung-jae by his side, the one closest doing his best to keep his face expressionless. He trembled under the man’s touch but stayed firm, keeping their gazes locked.

“H-he…”

“He’s been there for almost a week now. There’s nothing you can do.” There was pain in his voice, a pain they all heard but refused to acknowledge, and Sang-hyuk only looked back down at Sung-jae’s face. He could the others shifting, no one sure what to say after Sang-hyuk’s desperate display, and he honestly had nothing he wanted to say to them. There was nothing he could say. Nothing that would come close to making anything better.

“They never told us what happened or why. He just…appeared one day. We’ll…we’ll take care of him.”

Sang-hyuk looked up to see the pain in the other man’s eyes, finally recognizing the man as Jung Il-hoon. He knew Sung-jae had been especially close to him, and seeing the way he was now, he could see why. Sang-hyuk did his best to nod back, swallowing heavily and waiting to make sure his voice wasn’t shaking too much.

“I-I…thank you. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It…it isn’t anyone’s.”

Lies.

All lies.

But sometimes the sweetest lies were better than the bitterest truth.

 

Hong-bin noticed something was wrong the moment Sang-hyuk stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his flurried hair, his lab coat gone and his shirt untucked and wrinkled. He didn’t say anything as Sang-hyuk moved over to his chair, his eyes following him the entire time, but Sang-hyuk honestly was too tired to care. His body felt as if it had been hit by a truck and all the pieces crushed by a mallet, and he was going through the motions by sheer will power alone. He fell into his seat and let out a long sigh, looking up to see Hong-bin staring at him, gaze sharp.

Sang-hyuk ran a weak hand through his hair, his lips curling up without a second thought. “Hey there, Binnie. Sorry to keep you waiting. Why don’t we start these tests and get them out of the way, hmm?”

Hong-bin’s frown deepened, not moving an inch despite Sang-hyuk holding his hands out expectantly. His hands on his knees tightened as he straightened his back further, his shoulders taut, and Sang-hyuk suddenly wanted to scream at him to stop acting like a fucking machine. Why did everything have to turn out this way? Why did his father have to have been fucking around with goddamn cyborgs, doing things he shouldn’t have and eventually getting himself offed like a fool? Why did Sang-hyuk have to be his son, taken by association alone? Why did he have to be assigned to finish the work his father had been too stupid to do, forced to work with people that he knew deep down he would never know if he would still see the next day? Why did his only friend have to be the one to foolishly try and run away after helping a top-secret experiment escape?

Hong-bin’s gaze never wavered despite the overwhelming emotions threatening to overtake Sang-hyuk, content with waiting. But Sang-hyuk didn’t want to wait. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

“Goddamnit, X39, just give me your fucking hand!”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed even further, if that was even possible, before mechanically placing his hand in Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk regretted his words but did nothing to change it, blinking back tears as he roughly pulled and tugged at Hong-bin’s skin. His fingers were shaking by the time he was at Hong-bin’s shoulders, his breath uneven, and by the time he was at his waist, he could feel tears dripping from his chin. He let out shallow breaths, his fingers sharp and deep as they pulled at Hong-bin’s skin, yet all the while Hong-bin only stared.

Hong-bin only stared.

It was only when the first whine escaped his lips that Hong-bin moved, his arms strong as they wrapped around Sang-hyuk’s torso. He was surprisingly graceful as he easily pulled Sang-hyuk onto his lap, tucking Sang-hyuk’s head under his chin and cradling him like a child. Sang-hyuk was suddenly brought back to the time in his father’s office, held in Hong-bin’s lap not unlike now, feeling so safe and secure. While he felt nothing like that now, he still felt some sense of security underneath Hong-bin’s strong hold.

“Cry if it is what you must,” Hong-bin said quietly, his one hand moving up to run through Sang-hyuk’s hair. Sang-hyuk distantly wondered where Hong-bin had learned such a comforting motion, but couldn’t focus on that as he instead relished in the gentle reassurance it brought. Hong-bin continued to pat his hair, his voice soft and light. “I have been sad at the thought that your time here has changed you to be unable to feel as strongly as you had. While I cannot understand why you feel anger when you are sad, I am very happy to see that you are still able to cry.”

Sang-hyuk buried his face into Hong-bin’s chest, the soft cotton of his shirt smelling like disinfectant. Hong-bin had no scent. “I cried when you told me you remembered.”

“That is different. That is because of something I directly caused you to feel. I still cannot forgive myself for causing you such pain.” He waited a few seconds before looking down, pulling away enough Sang-hyuk looked up at him. “I am happy to see that the things they force you to do still can upset you. I would not be able to describe what I would feel if you became as immune to your work as your father had.”

Sang-hyuk found he had no response for that, instead dismally leaning back against Hong-bin’s chest, letting himself relish in the comfort he knew he had no right to feel. He couldn’t tell Hong-bin what really happened, and he wasn’t sure Hong-bin would even be able to fully understand. Hong-bin would probably never be able to, but that didn’t mean Sang-hyuk wouldn’t selfishly enjoy his presence to make it that much more bearable.

\--

When Sang-hyuk finally stumbled into the apartment, he was tired and weary, beaten so thoroughly his body automatically collapsed backwards against the door. His mind was exhausted, unable to think much beyond sleep and wishing the world would end, but he did notice the overbearing silence that greeted him. The exhaustion disappeared instantly, his body jerking straight when he realized that all the lights were off, the apartment absolutely silent, and his heart began to thrash against his chest.

“H-Hak-yeonnie?” he whimpered, taking a faltering step forward, his fingers shaking as he flicked the light on. The image of Sung-jae’s face flashed in his mind, and he was shivering as he nearly ran into the living room. Nobody knew—the cameras were off. Nobody had any idea—they wouldn’t have touched Hak-yeon, right? He had been so careful—

He stopped short at the sight of Hak-yeon asleep on the couch, his voice lost. The breath he wanted to let out in relief was stuck in his throat, his eyes focused only on how Hak-yeon’s head was nestled carefully in T52’s arms, the afghan draped over his body. Any time before Sang-hyuk would have just fumed in silent jealousy, but all willpower he may have had was gone at this point, and a thick haze clouded his judgement as he lurched forward and grabbed Hak-yeon’s arm, yanking him up and away before either had a chance to react.

Hak-yeon let out a sleepy yell as he tumbled to the floor, his eyes bleary as he tried to figure out what was going on, and T52 was suddenly standing.

“Sang-hyuk,” T52 started, his voice startingly serious, but Hak-yeon stopped him, the latter quickly coming to his senses as he ripped his arm away and stood up.

“What the hell, Sang-hyuk? What are you doing?” It was rare that Hak-yeon yelled like this, actual anger in his voice, and Sang-hyuk felt like he’d been slapped across the face. Hak-yeon…he was supposed to be understanding, always listening and always calm. Hak-yeon was always patient no matter what mood Sang-hyuk was in, taking all Sang-hyuk’s abrasive shouts and unintelligible wails with nothing more than sweet words and reassuring hugs. After everything today, from learning about Chan-yeol’s death to seeing Sung-jae filled with laced drugs, he only wanted Hak-yeon to sing him to sleep, his arms wrapped around him and lulling him to sweet dreams.

He wanted nothing to do with the cyborg that started it all, nor did he want to hear the voice he craved to be angry and accusing with him.

“Stay away from him, Hak-yeon,” Sang-hyuk urged, his voice low and filled with warning as he sent a heavy glare at T52. Hak-yeon noticed his gaze, his frown deepening as he immediately stepped in between them, standing at his full height.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Sang-hyuk, but you need to be careful. Hong-bin is a guest, and this isn’t the type of behavior you should be having.” He knew Hak-yeon was trying to be placating, but his tone was all wrong, and Sang-hyuk wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.

“He’s not a guest,” he snapped back, trying to keep his voice level. He never wanted to yell at Hak-yeon. Hak-yeon was the least deserving out of everyone to be yelled at, but if this continued, with his mind in this state, he didn’t know how long he would last.

Hak-yeon’s eyes narrowed, his voice low and frighteningly cold. “Han Sang-hyuk, I want you to stop. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was is not Hong-bin’s fault. You brought him here and asked him to stay. He is a guest, and for as long he is staying here, he will stay that way.”

“How would you know?” he asked before he could stop himself. His words flew out without a second thought, his filter gone as everything he had bottled up for years was finally released. “You have no idea how many people risked their lives, _gave_ their lives, for him, and yet he gets to stay here like a fucking _guest?_ You don’t know about what shit people had to do for him just to make a living, all to make sure he gets to open his pretty eyes every morning and say hello. How would you know that it’s not his fault? You don’t know _anything.”_

 _“And why do you think I don’t know anything?”_ Sang-hyuk flinched at the absolute _loathing_ that seeped into Hak-yeon’s voice, finding himself shriveling under the other’s livid glare. Hak-yeon had been harried before, tired and frustrated, but never _angry_. “Yes, I have no idea what goes on at your work and have no idea what Hong-bin is to all of you. But…do _you_ have any idea what it’s like to live here each and every day without the option of even stepping out the door? Do _you_ have any idea what it’s like where I just stare out the window for hours, because there is nothing else to do and you’re _never home?_ Do _you_ know what it’s like to talk to the only person I can have contact with lie to me every day and smile as if nothing’s wrong? You have no fucking idea, so don’t stand there and accuse me of something when you refuse to let me!”

“You’re standing there asking _me_ if I have any idea what it’s like being locked up without the choice of going outside? That was my entire goddamn _life!_ Why do you think I lie all the time? Would you like to hear about how people are turned into monsters because of sadistic rich people? Would you like hear about the people I help brainwash to keep you safe and happy here? You think it’s easy telling you how everything’s full of sunshine and rainbows?”

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything, but even just telling me you’re not alright is better than nothing!”

“No! I can’t!” Hak-yeon reeled back as if slapped, a flash of hurt sapping a bit of the emotion-riled anger he’d held, and Sang-hyuk regretted immediately. He felt the flurry of emotions that had pushed him vanish, leaving him even more exhausted than before, and his shoulders slumped as his body did its best to hold him up. “I…I only wanted you to be happy. I didn’t want to make you as miserable as I was. I…I just wanted to see you smile.”

Hak-yeon was crying as he stepped forward and pulled him into a gentle hug, and Sang-hyuk immediately hugged him back. It was then Sang-hyuk realized how much taller he’d grown, able to bend his head down and bury his face into the crook of Hak-yeon’s shoulder. Hak-yeon seemed to notice as well, a hiccup disguised as a laugh escaping his lips.

“Y-you liar. You promised you wouldn’t grow taller than me.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I lied.”

Hak-yeon sighed, his tears dotting Sang-hyuk’s shoulder. “Well…there’s not much we can do about it now, you big oaf. Y-you better not get any taller. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I promise.” They stayed that way for the longest time, both desperate and too terrified to break apart. It was only when a loud crash came from behind them that they spun around to see T52 sprawled out on the floor, his eyes glazed from a reset. Sang-hyuk hissed as he pulled away to help T52 up, huffing as he managed to drag him onto the couch. Hak-yeon was by his side, quickly covering T52 with the afghan and checking the other’s body, his fingers fixing T52’s hair. As they waited for T52 to come to, squatting on the floor and both so close and warm, Sang-hyuk whispered tentatively, “Yeonnie…can I sleep with you tonight?”

Hak-yeon smiled at him, kissing his cheek sweetly. “Of course you can, baby.”

 

Sang-hyuk knew Hak-yeon was awake when he heard him shift again for the hundredth time, the bed creaking along with him. He stared blankly at the ceiling as he waited for Hak-yeon to settle, both of them fully aware of the tense atmosphere between then, and neither knowing what to say. Sang-hyuk had already replayed their entire argument a thousand times in his head, and his entire body curled in on itself at the things he had accused Hak-yeon of. They had all been things he had thought at one time, yes, but he had never in a million years ever wanted to say them out loud.

He finally gathered enough courage to open his mouth when Hak-yeon suddenly turned to face him, the shine from the moon in his eyes rendering him speechless.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Hak-yeon whispered, his hand carefully reaching up to brush the curve of Sang-hyuk’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s…it’s okay. I yelled first. I didn’t mean it.”

Hak-yeon smiled, the curve of his lips highlighted by the stars, and Sang-hyuk found himself staring, enthralled. Hak-yeon had always shined, whether from the sky or from the inherent light that grew inside, and Sang-hyuk had always been drawn to that light. No matter what Sang-hyuk forced Hak-yeon to do, hidden away or otherwise, Hak-yeon still managed to shine brightly. Sang-hyuk never loved that more than he did now.

“No, I’m glad you finally were angry. Both of us. We’ve been pretending and hiding for so long; it wasn’t healthy. There are times when we should be mad at each other.” Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, his gaze falling, and Hak-yeon moved his hand under the covers to grab his hand. “Baby…you’ve been changing. I noticed it a while ago, but I didn’t want to make you upset. But after today…I…is everything okay? You know I’ll always be here. You can always tell me.”

Sang-hyuk could feel tears in his eyes, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he knew he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell. No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much Hak-yeon pleaded, he couldn’t. So he changed the subject completely, shifting his hand to grab Hak-yeon’s instead. He smiled softly, his tears blurring Hak-yeon’s face. “You know, I…I had the smallest crush on you when we were little. N-not enough to go out or anything, but more than a friend. I used to think you were the strongest, bravest, coolest guy ever.” A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Thank you, Hak-yeon. For always being there for me.”

Hak-yeon didn’t answer right away, his hand so soft as he squeezed back gently. “I loved you too, Hyukkie. Maybe more than a friend…much more than a friend.” There was a teasing tone in his voice, but it was appreciated all the same, both of them smiling widely and enjoying each other’s presence. Sang-hyuk shifted closer, able to feel the soft puff of Hak-yeon’s breath against his skin, and he could feel all the tenseness in his body leak out little by little. Something between them had changed, whether it was from the argument or laying here in a world all their own, but it was as if the binds that had kept them separate had all but disappeared, the truths they had fought to hide bursting forward.

“I…I make cyborgs.” He could feel Hak-yeon stiffening, the bed creaking, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to the tentative, strange hum Hak-yeon gave in response. “M-my job…that’s what I do. I don’t have to do the tests to actually make them or anything, but I have to make sure they’re functioning.”

Hak-yeon stayed silent the whole while, listening to every word, and Sang-hyuk was entirely grateful. “T52…he’s a cyborg. He was the first one they made. I don’t know much about him before he was turned, but he was brought here years ago. Everything was experimental then, and they fully expected him to die when they shot him up with the serum. They never expected him to actually live.

“His body couldn’t keep up with the drugs they had to put in him to keep him alive, and he started falling apart. So, they started replacing parts of him, like giving him a new arm, a new leg, a new shoulder…eventually taking out his stomach and giving him an entirely new respiratory system. Now…I don’t think there’s anything human of him left except for his head. They still haven’t figured out how to touch that.” Hak-yeon was so quiet, and with his tears dried Sang-hyuk could see how intently he was listening. “His resets…I didn’t know him before, but I was told they wiped his memory because of how rebellious and angry he was, and a side-effect was it messed up his head. He can’t remember things very well anymore.”

“Does…does he know this?” Hak-yeon’s voice was level, a calm that was as cold as it was calculated, and Sang-hyuk shook his head.

“I don’t know. Because he resets so often, none of us know really anything about what he knows and what he doesn’t. We can only assume he doesn’t.” He took a deep breath, his body feeling lighter than it had in years as he poured his secrets out for the world to hear. “But I wasn’t assigned to work with T52. I barely saw him. I…I was assigned to work with another cyborg; you actually met him before.”

“I did?”

Sang-hyuk hummed. “He was the stranger my father brought home all those years ago. The one I snuck in to see. He was a cyborg too. Supposedly he grew attached to me during that time, so when they brought him back to the lab, I was the only one he wanted to see. That’s why they didn’t kill me back then, and why they were willing to bring you here. They made me wipe his memory and put me in charge of making sure he stayed functioning and obedient.”

“So, all these years—”

“—I’ve been working with him. I love him a lot, and I want to keep him safe, but there’s only so much I’m allowed to do. If I step outside my boundaries even a little, they’re quick to threaten—” he hesitated, his voice falling to a hush as he all but whispered, “—to kill you.”

 _“What?”_ Sang-hyuk jumped when Hak-yeon shot up, staring down at him in a mixture of horror and rage, and Sang-hyuk floundered to sit up with him. Hak-yeon growled as he turned the nearby lamp on, the room suddenly bathed in a soft glow as Hak-yeon’s eyes flashed from behind the dark shadows the light draped over him. “What do you mean, _threaten you?”_

Sang-hyuk was shocked to see such a reaction, more surprised to see Hak-yeon angry at the threatening than the actual threat on his life. “I-it’s not you personally. They threaten everybody like that. They did it to my father too; they threatened to kill my mother and I if my father messed up. It’s normal, so as bad as it is I never think too much about it. I only think about you when I work. I only want to keep you safe and happy.”

Hak-yeon didn’t seem the least bit reassured, his hands digging into his hair and tugging frustratingly as he let out a long, heavy groan. Sang-hyuk was confused, unsure what the other was so upset about, and flinched when Hak-yeon slapped his hand away.

“Hak-yeon…”

“I knew they did shit to keep you in line, but I didn’t expect it to be so ridiculous.”

Sang-hyuk blinked. “What?”

Hak-yeon finally looked at him, biting on his lip guiltily. “I…you don’t need to explain so much to me, Hyukkie. I…I already knew about what you did. About the cyborgs.”

Sang-hyuk blinked again, the only intelligible answer he could give being, “…what?”

He sighed. “I never wanted to tell you. When we first met and I would sneak over to your house…I knew what your father was doing. The only reason my parents never tried to stop me from sneaking over all the time was because they knew your father and what he did. My parents…I knew who they were and what they did. I still do.”

Sang-hyuk instinctively scooted away, shaking his head as he tried to wrap his head around this new information, unable to believe despite how hard Hak-yeon tried to convince him. “N-no…you couldn’t have known. You were always so nice. You told me not to study so hard. You told me to relax and play. You would read stories to me and play games with me. You were so nice—how-”

“Just because I knew doesn’t mean I agreed,” Hak-yeon said hurriedly, reaching out to take his hand. Sang-hyuk pulled back, and Hak-yeon’s face fell. “I knew what they did, but it’s not like I could do anything to get them to stop. I hated what they did, and I hated that it was more important than me. You know how much my parents actually cared about me.”

“But-”

“All this time I’ve been with you, how hard have they looked for me? You’ve seen them at work, haven’t you? Do they look like they even miss me?” Both knew the answer before Hak-yeon even asked the question, and the flash of pain that crossed Hak-yeon’s face was enough for Sang-hyuk to take Hak-yeon’s hand. “I hated my parents, but I also loved them. I knew what they did and what lengths they went through to get people to do their bidding. I knew that’s why you weren’t allowed to go outside…so I did my best to allow you even a sliver of happiness. I’m sorry if that wasn’t enough.”

Sang-hyuk shook his head wordlessly as he leaned forward to grab Hak-yeon into a fierce hug, crushing him so tightly he could feel Hak-yeon wince. But that didn’t matter, crushing him until he could feel Hak-yeon’s heartbeat against his own, able to feel his pulse pounding against the cheek he buried into his neck. Hak-yeon had always been there for him, raising and loving him in a way that his own parents hadn’t. While it may have initially started because of pity, Sang-hyuk would never be able to fault him for becoming the person in his life that he would willingly die for.

“It was more than enough, Hak-yeon. Just you being there for me was enough. If not for you, I don’t think I could’ve made it this far.”

He could hear Hak-yeon laugh softly as he struggled to hug him back, his hands so warm and strong. Hak-yeon had always been the strong one.

“I meant what I said, baby. I loved you, more than a friend. I still do.” He felt Hak-yeon’s hand move up to his hair, stroking his head like a child. “Now, I think it’s time for you to go to sleep. You’re exhausted. I’ll make you a nice breakfast in the morning, how’s that?” Sang-hyuk just nodded wordlessly, fully enjoying it as Hak-yeon laid him down and covered him with a blanket, tucking him in just like he used to all those years ago. Only this time, Hak-yeon actually climbed under the blankets with him, giving a soft kiss to his lips.

“Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hak-yeon.”

.

..

…

When he woke up next, Hak-yeon was not by his side. He was not in his room, nor was he even in bed, a quick glance around revealing a large room that was as cold as it was empty. He attempted to sit up only for his numb body to scream in protest, collapsing back onto the floor in a tired heap. He tried to figure out where he was only for his head to pound, his thoughts jumbled and mush.

He had been drugged, he thought blearily.

The piercing sound of a door creaking open grabbed his attention, taking a great amount of effort to turn his head to see Joon-myeon stepping inside, his face blank as he stared down at him like a mere piece of dirt. He tried to open his mouth, to ask what was going on, but his body just couldn’t move, and he instead only stared pleadingly. Joon-myeon didn’t answer right away, just staring in that unnerving way of his, before finally shutting the door behind him, his footsteps reverberating against the floor and ringing in Sang-hyuk’s ear.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you here, Sang-hyuk. As annoying as you were, you were always good. Loyal. It actually upsets me to see you here.”

“J-Joon-myeon…”

“But there’s no exception for being good. A lot of shit’s happened because of you and that traitor, Yook Sung-jae. And traitors have to be punished. It’s honestly all too bad.” Sang-hyuk wasn’t able to figure out a response fast enough before Joon-myeon was signaling something, and the door was pushed open again.

The numbness that clung to the edges of Sang-hyuk’s consciousness could do nothing to stop the loud moan that escaped his lips, the utter despair palpable as Joon-myeon’s thin-lipped stare turned dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly so thankful for all of you that are actually sticking around for me and my infrequent updates. I just want to stay thank you for continuing to read. You guys are honestly the best.


	23. Revitalize

He watched with the utmost concentration, his eyes drawn to the way Sang-hyuk’s hands carefully and expertly moved down his limbs, noting how each press of his thumbs left small indents that he wished would never disappear. He could not describe how the sight of the small imprints on his skin made him feel, Sang-hyuk usually so gentle that it was almost as if he had never touched him at all. But Sang-hyuk was not anything like usual today, the moment he stepped into the room seeming to radiate with an aura that was anything but positive, and Y21 was determined to be as quiet and obedient as the other needed him to be.

He could not deny that most of his thoughts had been preoccupied for the past few sessions, his head filled only with thoughts of Sang-hyuk spending time with Hong-bin and X39. While Hong-bin had been nothing but reassuring and promising that Sang-hyuk loved Y21 the most, he could not forget the idea. He never wanted to say that he believed Sang-hyuk belonged only to him, or that only he deserved to be with him, but he would be lying if he said otherwise.

He watched as Sang-hyuk’s fingers lifted his foot, his fingertips pushing against the heel. He wanted to feel that. He had grown accustomed to the sensations that would flood his mind from his hand, now able to touch and feel things as if he had all his life. It had taken time, but it had worked, and now Y21 was desperate to have that ability completely. He had observed the way Hong-bin would move when he visited, how Hong-bin moved and breathed with such ease, brushing his hands against things and humming noncommittingly to the feel of it against his skin. It seemed so trivial to him, how he would comment to Y21 about how something was too hot, or too rough; how he would sigh contently about how soft Y21’s skin was.

He wanted to feel that too.

Sang-hyuk let out a sigh as he finished, placing Y21’s foot down on the floor before leaning back in his chair. His expression was hard to read, wrinkles deeper than before marking his face and drawing his brow tight. His shoulders were taut, drawn up to his neck while his lips were pulled back into a shape that was nothing like his usual kind smiles. He wanted to ask, to understand what was hurting him to the point that he would be so visibly upset, but he knew he could not. He could only speak once spoken to.

It was after some time that he realized that Sang-hyuk would more than likely not speak this session at all, and he could not explain how his body felt… _empty_. Sang-hyuk had always talked to him. No matter how much he lacked and could not respond appropriately, Sang-hyuk had always made sure to smile and praise him. But since Hong-bin had mentioned the others, he could not help but wonder if Sang-hyuk had been lying, and had only said those things to placate him. He knew deep down that no matter how many times Sang-hyuk said it, he would never be as beautiful as Hong-bin, or as amazing as X39. There was nothing about himself that was exemplary in any aspect, and he wondered if Sang-hyuk had simply grown tired of lying.

He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts when a sudden touch to his hand brought his attention forward, blinking confusedly to see Sang-hyuk repeating his name.

“Y21? Y21, look at me. Can you hear me?”

Y21 blinked again, his answer immediate as if spoken with a different tongue from his own. “I am here.” Sang-hyuk’s shoulders dropped at his reply, a smile on his face, and Y21 could not understand, only watching as Sang-hyuk’s hands moved to cup around his good one. He could feel the ridges of Sang-hyuk’s fingertips, the sharp pricks of his chewed fingernails, and he restrained himself from openly lamenting at wanting to feel that everywhere. “Is something wrong, baby?” Sang-hyuk asked, his question strange. “You’ve seemed so sad recently; did I do something?”

“I do not understand.”  

Sang-hyuk let out a soft breath, all the wrinkles and folds in his face slowly smoothing out until only a smile was left, an expression he reserved only for erasing any bad thoughts from Y21’s mind. “You’re thinking about something. Whenever I see you, you’re always thinking. I thought it was cute at first, but recently you’ve seemed so sad. You don’t smile at me anymore, and I’m worried. Did something happen? You know you can tell me, right? I’ll always be here.”

And with those words, Sang-hyuk had given him permission to speak.

“When you are not with me, do you also visit Hong-bin and X39?”

Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating and his mouth dropping open, and Y21 wondered if he had said something he should not have. He did not speak again, waiting instead. He watched as Sang-hyuk let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling against his own as he dragged his chair closer, his eyes unable to look into Y21’s as he stared down at their feet. He could see the hesitation in Sang-hyuk’s posture, from the way his teeth drug against his bottom lip to the way his foot tapped the floor repeatedly. At seeing such a reaction, he wished he could take back his question, pretending nothing was wrong as he lied that he was fine.

Finally, “…yes. I do see T52 and X39. I won’t lie to you, and I see X39 much more than I see you or T52. But,” he added hurriedly, suddenly confident as he met Y21’s eye and stared with hardened concentration, his face only inches from his own, “that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. You’re still new, so I don’t want to overwork you or hurt you. X39’s been here much longer than you and can stand the tests better, so I work with him more. I promise there’s nothing wrong with you.” His hand moved to run down the side of Y21’s cheek, though Y21 felt nothing. He felt _nothing._

“I am strong. I can do the tests.”

Sang-hyuk retracted his hand so fast he could barely catch it, though he was quickly distracted by how angry Sang-hyuk appeared, his frown so deep he could see glimpses of his teeth. “ _No._ You’re fine exactly the way you are. I won’t let them do anything to you until I know you’re ready. Don’t ask for something you’re not ready for.” There was a break in Sang-hyuk’s voice then, a crack that sounded similar to how he would cry, but for once Y21 could not concentrate on that. He could only hear the finality in his words, the decision made without any consultation.

“But why do you allow Hong-bin and X39 to do them? I want to be ready too.” When Sang-hyuk’s expression did not change, only opening his mouth to scold him again, Y21 continued. He did not know where such confidence to override his obedience came from, but it rushed though his body and guided his voice, letting his innermost thoughts run free.

“You lie to me and tell me I am beautiful, and I am wonderful. I knew nothing but your words and believed you; but you see X39 and Hong-bin as much as you see me, and you tell them the same words that you say to me. I know I am not beautiful like you or Hong-bin. I appeared to believe your words to make you smile, but I know there is no truth behind them. But even now, you refuse to give me a chance to match them, and allow me to fall behind. I do not understand why you lie to me.”

Sang-hyuk’s expression was one of surprise, though this time his reaction was much faster as he immediately straightened himself and in one quick motion pulled Y21 into his arms. Y21 did not know what was happening, Sang-hyuk never having done anything similar before, and struggled briefly before allowing himself to be shifted onto Sang-hyuk’s lap. He looked up see Sang-hyuk’s chin hanging over the top of his brow, a short glance showing his cheek pressed against Sang-hyuk’s chest. While none of this meant anything, he was very aware of Sang-hyuk’s hand that grasped his good hand tightly.

“It seems no matter what I do, I’m only destined to hurt you.” He did not know what those words meant, though kept his mouth shut from the sound of broken sobs coming from Sang-hyuk’s mouth. “I thought by keeping you here and not allowing anyone to touch you, you would be safe and happy. I only wanted you to be happy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I do not understand.”

Sang-hyuk’s hand tightened, and Y21 could not help but wince. Sang-hyuk did not seem to notice. “I promise you that nothing I’ve said is a lie. I would _never_ lie to you. You _are_ beautiful, you’re _so_ beautiful. You shine like the sun and the moon and the stars and every fucking thing in between. You’re so, _so_ beautiful, and I wish I could’ve made you believe that even before. You deserved to have the world bow at your feet. You still do.”

“But X39-”

“X39 is very special to me too, in a way that no one else can be. But that doesn’t make you any less special, or any less remarkable. Don’t look down on yourself just because you are different. You are special in your own way. So please don’t say anything like that again. _Please_.”

He stayed silent as he listened to the sound of Sang-hyuk’s shaking breaths, his eyes watching the small tears that slowly trickled down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. He blinked when he felt their hands move, and he looked up to see Sang-hyuk pressing his lips against the inside of Y21’s palm. The sensation was _warm,_ the wrinkled skin of his lips _wet_ and _ticklish,_ and he relished the feeling as he committed each one to memory. Sang-hyuk let out another sigh into the cup of his hand, and his breath was _hot_ and left his skin feeling slightly _moist._

Sang-hyuk kissed each one of his fingers as he continued to sing praises and drown all his bad thoughts with kind words, but Y21 could only hear one thing.

_I want to feel this._

\--

His body automatically stiffened when the door opened again, determination strengthening his focus as he watched Seok-jin carefully push the cart into the room. While Sang-hyuk and Hong-bin were both openly friendly with him and did much to be friends, Seok-jin had remained distant. Seok-jin only stayed in the room long enough to finish his work, and tended to rush out the moment he was finished. But he would not today. No, Y21 had something he was determined to do, and he would not allow Seok-jin to leave until it was accomplished.

He watched as Seok-jin stopped the cart by his bedside, observing intently as he readied the tube and filled it with his food. They had followed this routine to the point that he knew exactly when to open his mouth, Seok-jin knowing exactly how to place it so he would not have to touch Y21. Sang-hyuk had once told him that Seok-jin was just shy, and that he could not look him in the eye because Y21 was too pretty. He knew this was not true, Hong-bin able to look him in the eye with ease, but he did wonder what about himself always seemed to put the man in such discomfort.

He waited until Seok-jin had finished, pulling the tube out his mouth and cleaning his face, before speaking. “Kim Seok-jin.”

Seok-jin’s reaction was one he had never seen before, a high-pitched squeal escaping his lips as the tube clattered noisily to the floor. Seok-jin’s head whipped around to look at him, the first time their eyes ever met, and Y21 could see how wide and afraid they were. But he had no time to comment on it, Seok-jin letting out a string of words that Sang-hyuk had warned him to never repeat as he stooped down to pick up the tube, his fingers fluttering as he looked it over, checking for anything wrong. Seok-jin was still shaking even after he stood up and put the tube back on the cart, his lips trembling and his eyes blown wide, but Y21 had no time to wait for him to calm.

“Kim Seok-jin,” he repeated, hoping Seok-jin understood he was waiting for an answer.

Seok-jin’s eyes flickered over to him again, his teeth biting down into his lower lip until the skin turned white, and Y21 wanted to growl at him for not understanding his intention. Did he not know that Y21 could not speak without being spoken to?

So, he tried again. “Kim Seok-jin.”

“W-what do you want?” Seok-jin finally answered, his tone rushed and angry, and Y21 was not sure how to respond. Nobody had ever spoken to him in such a way before, and he did not know what the appropriate tone or words would be to match the direction of the conversation. His plight seemed to be recognized, Seok-jin slapping a hand to his mouth before stuttering profusely, letting out another barrage of bad words. “F-fuck, that’s not—fuck. Shit, I didn’t mean—ah, shit shit shit. Sorry, please don’t tell Doctor Han.”

“I will not.” That seemed to be an appropriate enough response, Seok-jin calming enough that his hand dropped down to pick mindlessly at the tube. He took his time bringing up his request, going over every word to try and not have Seok-jin react so violently again. “I have something that I need to ask you.”

Seok-jin looked pained at his words, almost as if he was about to cry, but he at least responded. “I-I can’t do anything for you. You’re better off asking Doctor Han, he’s the only allowed to do anything.”

He was not sure what that meant, so he continued as if Seok-jin had not spoken at all. “I want to start my tests. Sang-hyuk does not think I am strong enough, but I know that I can do it. I want to have the same tests that X39 does.”

Seok-jin’s fidgeting stopped completely, his brow furrowed in confusion, and Y21 found he did not like it. “You…you do know what the tests are, right? What they’re doing to X39?”

“I know that they have had their body parts replaced so that they can feel like you do. I want to feel like them.”

Seok-jin’s expression slowly shifted until it was an exact copy of Sang-hyuk’s, a mixture of displeasure and uncertainty. Y21 did not like it. “…I don’t think you really know. They’re doing a lot more than that.”

“It does not matter. I can do it.”

“I’m sure, but Doctor Han knows what he’s doing, and if he says you can’t, then I can’t do anything.”

“Sang-hyuk does not know. He treats me differently than the others, and I know this. He does not know what I am capable of. I can handle the tests. I can do it.” Seok-jin did not speak after that, his expression changing enough he could not read it anymore, and Y21 believed it to be a lost cause when the other man only turned and left the room.

\--

He was not sure how much time had passed by the time the lights were turned on again, a signifier of another day passed, but he was only aware of the change when the door opened, this time bringing a presence that was much better received. He smiled widely when Hong-bin stepped through the door, his fingers twitching over his knees but otherwise staying still as he waited for Hong-bin to greet him. From the many times they had spent together, he had learned how alike he and Hong-bin were in terms of what they were capable of and what their limits were, but he was well aware of how much more autonomy Hong-bin had over himself than Y21 did.

That fact was only compounded now as Hong-bin easily made his way over to Y21’s bed, bypassing Sang-hyuk’s chair completely to instead sit beside him on the bed. He was in a good mood; he noticed immediately from the way his lips were pulled out into a wonderful smile, his eyes crinkled and dimples decorating his cheeks under the lamp light. While Y21 had not yet figured out how to tell the differences in Hong-bin’s ever-changing moods, he always enjoyed seeing him when he was at his happiest.

“Hello!” Hong-bin greeted loudly, and Y21 knew he was now allowed to move. He carefully pulled his legs up onto the bed, Hong-bin helping him fold and push his limbs into a supposedly comfortable position. Y21 never cared much about his body with how little it felt like his own, but he knew Hong-bin and Sang-hyuk both cared deeply. He watched as Hong-bin grabbed the blankets to cover their legs, not missing the way his hands found their way to Y21’s uncovered arms, his fingers catching loosely onto the folds of his sleeve, and he wondered idly what such a thing would feel like.

He reached out and hooked his fingers into the dip of Hong-bin’s collar, something he did not think much of as they had done such intimate touches numerous times before. He was not prepared, however, for Hong-bin to flinch back violently, his hands shoving Y21 away as he grasped at his shirt, clutching the fabric close to his chest. Y21 blinked confusedly, unsure what he had done to cause such a reaction, and it seemed even Hong-bin realized that something was not right, his hands slowly loosening.

“I am sorry,” Hong-bin said, his voice smooth despite his expression. “I did not mean to react in such a way.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. I just did not expect for you to try and touch me. Was there a reason for you to do so?” No worry, no rushed fear or hurried anger, just calculated reasoning and a calm front. It was something he could understand with ease, and could figure how to respond with little problem.

He held up his good hand for Hong-bin to see, twisting his wrist and clenching his fingers until he saw Hong-bin’s eyes focus. “My hand. It was replaced long before I met you. I have been watching you moving and feeling with your skin; I only wanted to try and understand what you are able to feel. I am sorry if that upset you.”

Hong-bin did not answer, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in a way similar to Sang-hyuk and Seok-jin would do when surprised. While his skin could not grow pale from shock or his eyes dilate in fear, there was a twitch in Hong-bin’s expression, a small raise of an eyebrow, a purse of his lips enough to show a dimple, that he was able to recognize the surprise and…displeasure. Hong-bin’s eyes eventually trailed down to Y21’s hand, tentatively reaching out to touch him only to pull back in the end. “I…” Hong-bin started, “was not aware of this. How long has your hand been replaced?”

Y21 pulled his hand back into his lap, an action that Hong-bin watched with acute concentration. “I do not know. I only know that it took me a very long time to learn. It is difficult to process all the sensations. Though Sang-hyuk has said recently that I have been doing very well.”

Hong-bin’s frown only grew at his words, his expression a perfect picture of frustration, and Y21 was not sure why he was upset. Y21 was very pleased with his hand that allowed him to feel, and he loved every second he could learn more about the world through his skin. He knew Hong-bin also had this ability—he was not sure what about it Hong-bin did not like. “I did not know this. If I had known, I would not have touched you so carelessly.” Hong-bin finally looked back up at him, their eyes meeting. “Does it hurt you?”

Y21 shook his head, smiling. He had learned smiles tended to help Hong-bin’s mood whenever he grew somber, and smiled whenever he could. Sang-hyuk had told him that Hong-bin absolutely loved his smiles. “I love feeling things. Sang-hyuk teaches me, and I practice when I am alone.” When Hong-bin matched his smile with a reassuring laugh, he continued. “I know that the blankets are soft, and that the desk is hard. I also know that skin is soft. I love touching Sang-hyuk.”

Hong-bin nodded in thought, once again reaching out and carefully placing a hand on Y21’s arm. He seemed reassured when Y21 did nothing to pull away, his thumb moving in circles. “Yes. Skin is very soft. It is wonderful to feel.” His voice lowered to a whisper, the sound small. “Yours used to be so warm, like the sun. I cannot forgive them for taking that away.”

“I do not understand.”

Hong-bin smiled again, his whole face appearing to smile along with him, and Y21 was surprised how easily he was distracted. “It is nothing. I am happy to hear that you are adapting well. It is quite difficult to learn touch belatedly, though you are still young, so it will come to you much easier.” There was a flash of hesitation in Hong-bin’s eyes, his gaze flickering before he slowly slid his hand over Y21’s. Y21’s whole arm instinctively jolted, and while Hong-bin’s expression appeared apologetic, his grip turned hard as he held him in place. “What does this feel like?”

“Soft. Cold.”

“Yes. It is the price paid to become what we are.”

“But it is a price I want to pay.”

He took the opportunity during Hong-bin’s stunned stupor to quickly interlock their fingers like the many times Sang-hyuk had done before, squeezing just enough that he could feel the pulsing rivets shoot up his arm and fill his body. He let out a shaky breath, the sensations near overwhelming, as he let the vibrations fill him, trying to commit every one of Hong-bin’s touches to memory. He had purposefully kept from touching Hong-bin without permission, unsure where he stood despite the other’s seemingly friendly demeanor, and now that he was here, he wanted to learn it all immediately.

“You should not move faster than what you are capable of,” Hong-bin said abruptly, his words something Y21 had heard many times before. “Having your body replaced is not something done just for skin tests alone; doing it too quickly can cause your body to break down. You should make sure you are ready first.”

Y21 blinked, not having been ready for such an answer. “You do not want to reprimand me for wanting to replace parts of myself?”

Hong-bin’s face betrayed nothing. “I understand what it is like to have the sense of touch introduced to you so late. It is addicting, and I can understand why you are eager to have more. However,” his hand moved up to run down the side of Y21’s cheek, the touch lost on him but seeming to hold much more to Hong-bin, “once you start, you will not be the same. You are still you now, and that is something I am sure Sang-hyuk is trying to keep. Once you start, you will become like me, and that is something _I_ am trying to keep from you.”

“How much have they replaced of you?”

Hong-bin pulled away, taking no time pulling his shirt over his head and baring his chest for him to see. Here, Y21 could clearly see the patches of darkened skin that covered Hong-bin’s chest, some overlapping over his shoulder and up to his neck, the parts stitched together. With a soft brush of his fingers, Y21 could feel the wrinkles that filled the dark skin, the texture so different form the cold softness of his arms. Hong-bin sighed, removing Y21’s hand and patting it gently.

“Everything of me has been replaced, though the reasoning behind my replacements are different than yours. Yours was to give you touch, nothing else. But it will have to be done again in time.” He himself fingered the dark skin, pinching it between his fingers. “Once the skin grows old, it weathers away until it peels off. They will then have to give you a new set.”

Y21 was fascinated. “I did not know this. Is that what you had to do?”

Hong-bin nodded, smiling when he saw the interest in Y21’s eyes. “It will eventually happen to your hand too.”

“I do not mind. I want to feel; like you. I want to feel you, Hong-bin.” When Hong-bin did nothing but stare at him, his big eyes wide, he took that moment to squeeze their fingers again, this time reveling in the pulsing sensations afterward. He met the other’s gaze, leaning forward until there was only inches between them, keeping his voice low in the way Sang-hyuk had taught him. “Hong-bin…can I touch you?”

Hong-bin let out a low hum, the sound deep and full of something Y21 was not sure was right, a mixture of fear and anticipation. “You do not have to ask me. I would never deny you of anything.” He could sense that there was something deeper behind his words that his brain just had no way of understanding, so he instead turned his focus to their hands. With slow movements, he allowed his hand to discover on its own, taking his time to see and feel everything through his skin for the first time.

It was when his hand was catching over Hong-bin’s collarbone that he realized he was actually touching Hong-bin, feeling and experiencing him in a way beyond what his eyes or ears could ever do. Y21 was mesmerized, and without knowing it began to run his hand across his wide shoulders and thick neck. The involuntary shudder that shook Hong-bin’s body sent a shudder of its own through Y21, and he had to take a steadying breath before he continued.

His hand eventually trailed up to his face, his palm cupping Hong-bin’s cheek in a way that felt strangely familiar. He found his breath curiously stuttering as he traced over every bump and crack of Hong-bin’s face; from his wide, doe eyes to the fragile curl of his lashes, each one bending gently against the push of his fingers. He trailed down to his nose, the appendage tall yet thin, the sight a stark contrast to the rounded cheekbones that lined either side. His search eventually ended with his finger catching on Hong-bin’s bottom lip, and he started at how cold it was. It held none of the warm moistness of Sang-hyuk’s lips, something he had learned meant _life,_ but it was something Y21 found he enjoyed regardless. He blinked when he felt the lip under his fingertips stretch and pull, looking up to see Hong-bin smiling at him, the fondness clear in his eyes. When Hong-bin moved his hand up to hold his, Y21 accidentally flinched away, his finger jamming into Hong-bin’s nose.

Hong-bin laughed. “It is very strange, to experience this from the other side. I never thought I would be the one to be explored.”

Y21 blinked. “Has someone touched you like this before?”

Hong-bin shook his head, this time catching his hand and holding it still. “I had actually done this very thing to you, before you were here. It is a memory that I can remember in great detail no matter how many times I reset.”

There were many things in those words that were of great interest, though Y21 kept himself from asking them all at once, focusing on the most important. “You have not reset in a long time. Have you been getting better?”

Hong-bin sighed, leaning forward so their foreheads were pressed together, another gesture that seemed to hold great significance to Hong-bin. He wished he could feel the same. He really did.

“Only with you.”

 

At some point Hong-bin had pulled Y21 into his lap, settling him in a way that had Y21’s head resting on his chest, their legs entangled together underneath the blankets. Hong-bin had one arm wrapped around Y21’s waist while the other was up somewhere in Y21’s hair, something Hong-bin had said once gave him much pleasure. They had done this many times when together, enjoying each other’s presence that only they could give, and while Y21 could feel none of it, he loved it nonetheless. It was comforting, and familiar, so while Hong-bin ran his fingers through his hair and contently rested his cheek against Y21’s, he let himself enjoy the moment as well, rhythmically running his hand down Hong-bin’s leg.

Hong-bin was the first to speak, his voice reverberating in Y21’s ears. “They told me not to say anything. But I cannot control myself when around you.”

Y21 did not move, only continuing to play with Hong-bin’s pant leg. “I do not understand.”

Hong-bin’s whole body jerked, his arms stiffening considerably, and Y21 wondered if he was resetting, though a small turn of his head showed Hong-bin’s eyes blown wide, his mouth turned into a hard line of concentration. He looked to be struggling, his breath shaking. It took a long while before Hong-bin’s body eventually relaxed, his mouth softening with a gentle breath and his eyes blinking quickly, before he glanced over to meet Y21’s eyes. “They want to keep you clean, but I cannot follow such orders when I see you. I cannot pretend to not know.”

“Pretend about what?”

Hong-bin shook his head, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Y21’s eye. He only knew it happened because his eyes instinctively closed shut at the contact. “I am going to tell you a name, but you must promise me that you will not tell anyone else.” When Y21 frowned, he pushed forward. “You must promise not to tell Sang-hyuk, or Seok-jin. Or anyone else that visits. It has to be just between us.” Y21 tried to sit up but Hong-bin held him still, both hands moving down to hold him tight around the waist, his mouth soon beside his ear again, each sound of his breath sending shivers through his body.

_“My name for you…”_

Much later, after Hong-bin had left and the lights had been shut off to indicate another day has come and gone, he pressed his hand to his waist, trying to imagine Hong-bin’s hands still there. A smile was on his lips as he repeated Hong-bin’s words in his head, deciding then that he liked the name, and he would keep his promise.

It would be theirs alone.


	24. Unworthy

“You doing okay?”

Sang-hyuk snapped his head up to see Sung-jae approaching him slowly, the lanky boy looking absolutely exhausted as his eyes struggled to stay open, absentmindedly rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Sang-hyuk felt a rush of embarrassment flood his cheeks as he immediately ducked his head down, curling his knees closer to his chest as he tried to make himself as small as possible on the lobby couch. It was late enough that he hadn’t expected anyone to still be around, he himself stuck until Won-shik finally decided to walk him home.

He could hear Sung-jae sit down next to him, the cushions shifting and crinkling loudly under the weight, and Sang-hyuk curled himself into an even tighter ball. While they didn’t see each other often, Sung-jae had made it his mission to bother and annoy Sang-hyuk whenever possible, always screaming his name from across the room and waving excitedly, disregarding the way everyone glared at them. He poked and prodded Sang-hyuk whenever the two of them had a break, asking ridiculous questions and playing stupid games that usually resulted in Sung-jae scaring the shit out of him. It was terrible and Sang-hyuk loved every second of it.

Sung-jae waited patiently for him to figure out his thoughts, his finger casually poking Sang-hyuk’s side and snickering when Sang-hyuk instinctively tried to wriggle away. Sang-hyuk eventually caved and swatted his hand away, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Stop it, Sung-jae.”

“Not till you tell me what’s wrong. What’s got you looking like someone kicked your puppy?”

“I never had a puppy.”

“You know what I mean.”

Sang-hyuk sighed as he rested his chin over his knees, staring blankly across the lobby, the room empty as most people either went home already or were holed up in their office. He wondered how long Won-shik was going to take—Hak-yeon promised to make a pillow fort tonight.

“I don’t know…I guess I’m just not used to everything yet. Sometimes I feel like I got it all figured out, and then they’re times when I just wanna dig myself into a hole and die.”

Sung-jae stopped poking him then, humming thoughtfully as he leaned back against the couch, his eyes hooded. Sung-jae was rarely serious, but would always grow quiet when they talked about work.

“There’s really no ‘getting used to it’. If you _do_ get used to it…you’ve probably gone insane.”

“But…I can’t afford that. They expect all this stuff from me with Hong—er, X39, but I just can’t seem to do it right.” When Sung-jae turned to look at him, actually patiently waiting for once, Sang-hyuk found himself blurting everything. “I can tell from Won-shik that they’re getting upset and think there’s something wrong with him. Even though he can’t remember anything anymore, I know there’s nothing wrong. He’s fine. But no matter what I do, I’m just not doing things right.” His voice trailed off as he stared at the floor again, his cheeks flushed.

Sung-jae didn’t say anything for a while, the silence much appreciated. The two of them watched a man tiredly drag himself to the elevator, sparing neither of them a second glance as he hurried inside and disappeared. Sung-jae sighed.

“I don’t know much about the borgs, or any of the fancy stuff you guys have to do. But I do know you, and I know you’re nothing like the people they usually send for the job.” Sang-hyuk frowned, confused. “You have to be confident and strong when dealing with anyone here. People like you, all shy and awkward; they eat you alive. You have to make your voice loud and sound like you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t. Bullshitting goes a long way.”

“But how does that help with X39?”

Sung-jae shrugged. “I don’t know, but you should try and be confident with it too. It might recognize that you don’t know what you’re doing, and is responding to that.” Sang-hyuk bit his lip, and Sung-jae patted his shoulder supportively. “Just try it. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot. Stand up straight, look people in the eye, and puff out your chest. Prove to everyone that you deserve to be here.”

 

And that is exactly what Sang-hyuk did.

\--

Sang-hyuk felt the entirety of his soul leave his body the moment he saw Hak-yeon wheeled in, Won-shik’s eyes purposefully trained on the floor as he mechanically pushed the cart inside. Joon-myeon stayed silent as if waiting, his hands folded behind his back until the cart stopped beside him. Sang-hyuk whimpered at Won-shik, looking up from his pathetic position on the floor in the hopes of some explanation, but Won-shik ignored him, bowing obediently before taking a step back.

Joon-myeon reached down to the tray underneath the cart, pulling out a pair of stark white gloves. His eyes never left Sang-hyuk as he let out a long sigh, emphasizing each motion as he peeled the gloves over his skin. The sound of the elastic echoed in the room, bouncing off the white walls and shaking against the one-way glass that lined Sang-hyuk’s back.

“It’s such a shame. None of us wanted to hurt Hak-yeon, or you. While of course we really didn’t want to touch Hak-yeon because of his parents, we did enjoy watching the two of you. You were so ridiculously cute, it was the highlight of our day.” Sang-hyuk managed to sit up, his back collapsing against the wall behind him, the freezing chill of the glass permeating right through his shirt and biting into his skin. Luckily for him, the drugs kept his body from shivering at the touch, helping him stay deathly still as he gave Joon-myeon the hardest glare he could muster.

Joon-myeon wasn’t the least bit perturbed, finishing the gloves with one last snap, his lip curled dangerously. “But of course, you had to go putting your nose in places you shouldn’t. All the good ones do, unfortunately.” Joon-myeon reached a hand out to pat Hak-yeon’s cheek, and Sang-hyuk growled lowly. Joon-myeon snorted. “Don’t you growl at me. Normally we’d just kill the two of you for the shit you pulled. Did you really think you’d get away with keeping T52 hidden in your home? You didn’t think we knew the moment you stepped inside?”

Sang-hyuk felt all the blood drain from his face, his stomach dropping like lead as realization slowly dawned on him. The whole time…. His eyes flickered over to Hak-yeon’s still body, a glimpse of him smiling beautifully while brushing T52’s hair flashing in his mind.

_“Look at our little Hong-binnie, so handsome.”_

_“Our Hong-binnie is so handsome.”_

“But you’re infuriatingly important,” Joon-myeon continued, looking through the tray again and pulling out a small kit, one that had Sang-hyuk attempting to scramble to his feet, only to fall back against the wall again, his body still numb. Joon-myeon noticed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head sadly as he pulled out a long, thin syringe. “No matter what I do, you’re always somehow right in the middle of _everything._ When we brought X39 back from your dad, you somehow got your fingers all over it. When we were thinking T52 to be obsolete, you somehow got it attached to you. And here you are now, after six years of silence, getting X39 to open up and speak to you when it couldn’t even remember its own name.”

He filled the syringe with a familiar blue liquid, the sight sending rivets of pure panic through Sang-hyuk’s body. The face of a young girl with a flower pin in her hair flashed before his eyes, her soft smile replaced with the image of her face twisted in horror, large chunks of skin gauged out of her arms and legs. That blue liquid had done that to her, and now that same liquid was being held dangerously close to Hak-yeon. Tears started to run down Sang-hyuk’s cheeks.

“We can’t afford to get rid of you, not when you’re getting shit done. It’s frustrating, really, because in this kind of business we can’t really afford to rely on chance. You’ve already shown the ability to make rash decisions, _bad_ decisions; the smartest choice would just be to kill you. But you’re too important, so we decided to let you live.

“On that note, however…” He shook the needle, swishing it around until the liquid turned clear. He held it up as if examining the contents, letting out a satisfied hum before looking straight down at Sang-hyuk, his gaze hard. “We can’t let you go unpunished.”

At that moment, everyone’s attention was suddenly caught by the sound of a soft moan, all eyes turning to see Hak-yeon shifting, his head rolling to the side. The faint sound of Sang-hyuk’s name was murmured quietly, raspy and small, and something inside Sang-hyuk broke. Hak-yeon was still _alive_ , there was still a _chance,_ and through sheer willpower alone he forced his body to move as he crawled onto his knees, slamming his hands down as he bowed his head until his forehead cracked against the floor.

“Please!” he shouted, disregarding how pitiful and absolutely _pathetic_ he sounded, his voice cracking as tears trickled down his cheeks and mixed with the snot that caught at his chin. “Please, I beg you, don’t do this! I-I’ll do whatever you want! I-I’ll mentor as many people as you want, I’ll work with the volunteers, I-I’ll shut T52 down myself if you want! I-I’ll do anything! Please don’t do this!” He looked up, sobbing as he saw the way Joon-myeon stared down at him, eyes wide and a hint of shock spread over his normally placid features. He could hear Won-shik calling out his name, but he ignored it. “Please, Joon-myeon. Please, I’m begging you. Please don’t touch Hak-yeon. Please…”

Joon-myeon put the needle down, his lips tugged down into a frown. For the first time, Sang-hyuk saw something akin to pity on his face, and another broken sob rumbled through his chest. It was a horribly primal sound, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. Hak-yeon was here, Hak-yeon was alive, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he stayed that way.

_Sang-hyuk shamelessly watched Hak-yeon’s back, squeezing his lips together happily as his fingers twisted in his lap. He hoped one day he could have a back like Hak-yeon’s, with shoulders straight and an aura that made it comfortable to lean against._

_He wanted to be just like Hak-yeon._

Joon-myeon’s voice was soft. “You know there are no exceptions, Sang-hyuk.”

“ _Please,_ Joon-myeon. I’ll do anything. Hak-yeon…Hak-yeon is my everything. Without him…I-I’ll do anything. _Anything.”_

 _“Hyukkie…”_ Hak-yeon whispered, his eyes blinking open, unable to focus as the drugs slowly started to wear off.

Joon-myeon shook his head, conviction returning as he forcefully hardened his stance. “There aren’t any exceptions,” he repeated, his tone mocking. “There weren’t any with Moon-hyuk, and there certainly weren’t any with your father.” When Sang-hyuk sniveled at him, his body stopping mid-sob at the sudden mention of his father, Joon-myeon snorted, tilting his head as if speaking to a child. “What, did you think we killed your dad for shits and giggles? Your father crossed a line he shouldn’t have. No amount of begging was able to save him.” Sang-hyuk glanced over at Won-shik to see the latter lower his head, the blood of his parents still running hot over his hands.   

 _“Sang-hyuk,”_ Hak-yeon mumbled a little louder, finally rolling his head enough to see Sang-hyuk crouched on the floor, his eyes glossy as he tried to focus. He could see Hak-yeon trying to fight through the haze, one hand clumsily reaching out towards him, and Joon-myeon was moving in an instant.

“Ah, none of that,” he murmured, pulling out the restraints to strap Hak-yeon’s hands and feet down. Hak-yeon was too tired to fight him, only groaning softly. Joon-myeon’s mouth twisted into a wry smile, patting Hak-yeon’s cheek. “It’s going to be an absolute pain explaining this to his parents. Do you know how big of a pain in the ass they are? I’m going to have think of a hell of a story to convince them.” Hak-yeon made a noise at the mention of his parents, and Sang-hyuk was crying again.

“Please don’t touch him. I-I’ll talk to his parents, I’ll explain about him being with me and I’ll promise not to mess anything up. I-I can do it. I’ll do it. Just please…please…”

_“You don’t have to always worry about making others happy. Your happiness should come first.”_

_“Remember, you deserve happiness too.”_

“That’s not necessary; did you know they never asked once about him? I’m pretty sure they knew we had him somewhere, though I doubt they knew about you. It’ll be interesting to see what they do.” At this point Joon-myeon’s voice had fallen into the background, the sound fuzzy as Sang-hyuk found himself focused solely on Hak-yeon’s bleary eyes. He could see the light returning, blinking furiously as if trying to bring the world into focus, and Sang-hyuk watched it all happen. He watched as Hak-yeon finally met his gaze, his jaw locking when he realized their predicament, and, against everything, smiled reassuringly. Sang-hyuk felt his arms go weak as his lips trembled uselessly, absolutely fucking _hating_ himself that he was so utterly pathetic that even when Hak-yeon was strapped to a table, completely aware of what was happening, was still able to gather enough strength to reassure _him._

He was so fucking _useless._

_“I never wanted to complain. I made the choice to come with you. You didn’t force me.”_

_“But it’s hard to pretend to be oblivious, to let you lie to me and pretend I can’t tell.”_

“But it’s not like they’ll really be able to do anything. They’ve invested too much money and have bribed one too many of the wrong people to break away unscathed. It’s all sad really. From now on, whenever they come for a visit, they’ll get to see how wonderful and amazing their son will be.”

_“I’m sorry, Hak-yeon…I just didn’t want to make you worry about me. It’s my fault; I’m sorry.”_

_“But that’s my job, you dummy. I’m supposed to worry about you.”_

Joon-myeon finally picked the needle back up, wiping the crux of Hak-yeon’s elbow with a wipe. Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened as he realized what he was doing, and he lunged to his feet as he grabbed the other side of the cart and yanked it back as hard as he could.

Joon-myeon yelped as he nearly dropped the needle, whipping his head around and glaring furiously at Sang-hyuk attempting to push the cart behind him, Hak-yeon calling out his name frantically. Joon-myeon let out a low growl. “Han Sang-hyuk-”

“Don’t touch him. T-this is all my fault. H-he shouldn’t be punished for this. Punish me, but don’t touch him. Please, Joon-myeon.” Even when he was trying to be threatening, his voice only came out as weak, the sound wavering and small. Won-shik stepped forward when Joon-myeon only glared, his face carefully blank.

“Hyuk, you _know_ they can’t just let the two of you go. Something’s gotta be done. You fucked up too big to just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“But Won-shikkie…” Won-shik’s mask cracked at the nickname, the surprise hurriedly hidden under layers of apathy.

“He already explained why we can’t do anything to you. Somebody has to be punished.”

“But Hak-yeon doesn’t-”

“Hyuk, he had his hands all over T52. He practically showered the thing with his presence. I’m sure if we broke through enough, we’d find him all over the borg’s memories.” It was the exact same thing that had happened with Sang-hyuk and Hong-bin, but he refused to acknowledge it, shaking his head and stumbling back when Won-shik tried to come closer. “Hyuk, I’m serious. There’s no way of getting out of this. Either you let us do this, or you’re going to have to be the one. And I don’t think you want to be the one responsible.”

Sang-hyuk’s entire body lurched at the idea of being the one to administer the serum, looking down to see Hak-yeon staring at him in terror, his body shaking. He could feel his eyes flood with tears, knowing what was ultimately going to happen and what little control he had to stop it. He turned around and grabbed Hak-yeon’s hand, reveling in how warm and familiar it was. This same hand had held his for so many years, had fed him soup when he was sick and bathed him when he was too tired, had held his cheeks when he was happy and pinched his arms when he was annoyed. This hand belonged to the man he loved, and they were going to take him away.

“Yeonnie…” he wept, and he sniffled when he felt Hak-yeon squeeze back.

“Hyukkie…it’s okay. Don’t worry, baby, everything will be okay.”

“No, it won’t!” he cried, shaking his head and shoving his face into Hak-yeon’s shoulder, smothering himself until he could feel his cheek press against Hak-yeon’s neck. Even when masked with the scent of disinfectant and death, he could still smell Hak-yeon. Warm lavender and sweet honey. “Why? Why can’t you blame me? Everything is my fault—it always has been. _Why can’t you just blame me?”_

At that moment, a heavy hand landed on Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, a slight raise of his head revealing the needle resting invitingly on Joon-myeon’s palm. He knew what Joon-myeon was expecting but just couldn’t seem to grasp it, couldn’t seem to understand what it was they wanted him to do. He couldn’t…. He blinked up at Joon-myeon, confusion overriding everything else, and Joon-myeon’s lips pursed as he gestured to the needle.

“It’s your choice, Hyuk. It has to be done, but you can decide. Do you want to be the one to do it, or do you want me?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“B-but…why…my fault…”

“It is, but life isn’t always fair. They’re always going to be people sacrificed for others’ greed. It happens to everyone. We’ve all…” Joon-myeon’s voice trailed off, a hint of pain crossing his face, but he hid it so fast Sang-hyuk nearly missed it. “The cards have been dealt, and Hak-yeon unfortunately drew the short end of the stick. If you really can’t, Won-shik or I could-”

“N-no,” Sang-hyuk cut in, wavering but firm. Joon-myeon waited patiently. “I-I don’t want anyone else to touch him. I-I’ll do it.” The needle was cold as he slowly curled his fingers around it, the small thing heavy once he pulled it away. This innocuous little device held the fate of Hak-yeon’s life, the uncertainty of that fate bearing down on Sang-hyuk’s shoulders with a weight that was likely to crush him. They had been talking this whole time as if Hak-yeon would survive, but he knew how unlikely that would be. Very few made it past the first test, and only one out of a thousand made it past the second. Hak-yeon was strong, but this was something even he couldn’t beat.

Not this time.

Joon-myeon thankfully stepped back once Sang-hyuk accepted, for once allowing him to take as much time as he needed. Sang-hyuk’s hands were shaking as he looked back down at Hak-yeon, his eyes raking over every little detail of his friend’s face. Hak-yeon was so young, still so _young_ ; Sang-hyuk had never been able to give him the stable, loving life he’d always promised, but instead was the one that would take it.

This was Sang-hyuk’s punishment, and it would haunt him until the day he died.

“I won’t blame you.” Sang-hyuk blinked through his tears to see Hak-yeon smiling at him, his voice so gentle and full of love. His grip on the needle trembled, a wretched sob escaping his lips, and Hak-yeon’s expression softened. He could see there was so much Hak-yeon wanted to do—reach out to him, hug him, hold him, comfort him—but he could nothing but smile. “It’s okay, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Sang-hyuk whimpered, trying his best to line the needle tip to Hak-yeon’s arm but shaking too much to even get close. “I…this…I never wanted this to happen.”

“I know, baby.”

“I…I love you, Hak-yeon. I love you so much and I don’t…I can’t…”

“I love you too, Hyukkie. It’s okay, I understand. I…I’m not afraid. I knew the dangers when I followed you here all those years ago, and I know them now.” Sang-hyuk sniffled as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his chest heaving like a child, and Hak-yeon chuckled softly. “I promised you I would never leave you, didn’t I? Don’t worry. I’ll always be here.”

_“Even if I died, I could never get rid of you.”_

_“Nope!” Hak-yeon piped up cheerfully, climbing over so he could lay comfortably on Sang-hyuk’s back. He knew how much Sang-hyuk loved it. “No matter where I go, I’m going to drag you with me.”_

_Sang-hyuk paused. “…promise?”_

_Hak-yeon smiled, his hand reaching out to interlace their fingers together. “I promise.”_

“I love you,” he whispered one last time, gathering up what little energy he had left to insert the needle straight into Hak-yeon’s arm, a press of his thumb shooting the entire contents into his body. The needle fell forgotten to the floor, Sang-hyuk’s hands finding their way to grab Hak-yeon’s cheeks, his eyes unblinking as he watched every twitch of his facial muscles, waiting for even the slightest hint of pain. Hak-yeon didn’t react to his touch, his brow scrunching as if merely in thought—until his arm began to twitch, his lower lip quickly sucked in between his teeth.

“H-Hak-yeon?” Sang-hyuk asked, unmoving as he only stared into Hak-yeon’s eyes. He would never look away. He wouldn’t look away for even a _second,_ determined to stay with him until the end.

“I-it stings,” Hak-yeon murmured, the twitching turning to slight jerks, his arm catching against the restraints. “Hyuk…it’s starting to really hurt. Is it…is it supposed to be like this?” Sang-hyuk could only nod, taking deep breaths to keep himself from crying. He had to be strong. Hak-yeon was _dying_ ; he would be damned if he broke down like a baby when Hak-yeon _needed_ him.

He could tell Hak-yeon was trying to hide how much pain he was in, strangled coughs bubbling in his chest as he attempted to keep his mouth locked shut, his eyes squeezed tight in strained concentration to stay sane. He wanted to shout at him to stop, to reassure him that he could let go and show how much he was hurting, but found his voice lost, too lost to even think of words to say. He had seen this happen so many times before, but had never actually thought about what he was doing. As much as it’d hurt, they had all been nameless people, just unlucky suckers who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had never thought about what kind of pain they were in, or how much they’d suffer before exhaustion kicked in.

But then, he never thought he’d have to watch it happen to someone he loved.

Soon, Hak-yeon couldn’t control himself anymore, his mouth bursting open as he let out a mangled scream, his body thrashing against the restraints. Sang-hyuk screamed along with him, absolutely terrified as he threw himself on top of Hak-yeon, clinging to whatever he could as he pressed himself against his chest, the sound of Hak-yeon’s screams muffled and ringing in his ears.

“I’m sorry!” he screamed, tears covering his cheeks as he buried his face into Hak-yeon’s shirt, the soft cloth a stark contrast to the violent spasms that ripped through Hak-yeon’s body. “I’m so sorry!” He wasn’t sure Hak-yeon could hear him at this point, too far gone and in too much pain, and when he felt Hak-yeon seize under him, his muscles taut and feeling as if they’d snap if he waited even one more second, Sang-hyuk made up his mind.

He ripped himself away as he slammed open the kit from earlier, a completely feral instinct taking over as he grabbed the vile full of the second test. He heard something behind him, the sound of a yell and hurried footsteps, but he couldn’t give a fuck what it was. He grabbed a new syringe and dumped the contents inside, not giving another second of thought before jamming the needle right into Hak-yeon’s thigh.

Not a second too soon, as the needle was still embedded in Hak-yeon’s leg when he felt multiple pairs of hands yank him back. All the rushing adrenaline from earlier was sapped the moment those hands touched him, collapsing to the ground only for his body to be violently twisted around, a painful slap across the face startling him enough back to reality.

He blinked up to see Won-shik glaring down at him with the viciousness of a wild storm, his fingers digging painfully into his shoulders, while Joon-myeon ran right past them to Hak-yeon. Sang-hyuk instinctively tried to stop him, to slam him to the ground and ripping him to shreds for even _daring_ to go near Hak-yeon, but Won-shik held him fast, growling his name. He tried to push him back without ever looking away from Joon-myeon, his heart racing as Joon-myeon pulled the syringe out from Hak-yeon’s leg.

But all the power in the world wouldn’t stop him the second he saw Joon-myeon put a hand to Hak-yeon’s forehead, shoving Won-shik off of him with newfound strength as he raced forward, doing the same to Joon-myeon as he threw himself on Hak-yeon again, wrapping his arms around Hak-yeon’s body and holding him tight, sobbing uncontrollably as he listened to the way Hak-yeon’s screams grew louder, his thrashing intensifying as he suffered so much.

 _“I love you!”_ Sang-hyuk cried, the sound of his voice mixing with Hak-yeon’s into a whirl of noise and pain. _“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”_ He didn’t know how many times he apologized, his apologizes laced with the confessions he had always been too afraid to say, before Hak-yeon’s body eventually grew still, the following silence filling the room with an air thick enough to cut with a knife. Nobody moved, nobody breathed; Sang-hyuk refused to let go, to be forced to accept the inevitable outcome of what he had done. While the chance of Hak-yeon surviving the first test were slim, the chance had still been there. But with the second test…he hadn’t been thinking clearly, so guilty and afraid that he’d wanted to just end Hak-yeon’s life right there, to end his suffering and finally give him peace—but now, he couldn’t bear to accept what he’d done.

He couldn’t accept that Hak-yeon was gone.

Hak-yeon was his world.

His everything.

“Sang-hyuk…” Won-shik breathed, the sound amazed and disbelieving, though it meant little to him. How could he care about anything, now that Hak-yeon was gone? Nothing was worth anything anymore.

“Sang-hyuk.” This time Joon-myeon, and Sang-hyuk felt a tug on his waist that forced him to finally look up—only to see both Joon-myeon and Won-shik staring at Hak-yeon in awe, mouths open in shock. Sang-hyuk’s muddled mind couldn’t understand, couldn’t understand how they could dare stand to look so happily surprised in front of him, until he looked down himself—to see Hak-yeon breathing. He blinked once, twice, one more time, and yet still couldn’t believe. He was hallucinating, that had to be it. There was a reason the tests were spaced a week apart, there was a reason most subjects died. He had given both at the same time knowing what would happen—how could Hak-yeon still be alive? It just… just didn’t happen…no…

Joon-myeon snapped out of it first, immediately grabbing a phone out of his pocket, his serious mask already back in place.

“There is a situation and we need a room readied right away. The subject will be brought shortly. Details will be given later.”

Won-shik held him tight as the room was soon flooded with people, everyone ignoring Sang-hyuk’s strangled pleas not to touch Hak-yeon. He was too tired and weak, unable to even stand on his own, as he watched them take Hak-yeon away, fighting through his tears to get one last, longing look at Hak-yeon’s face.

_“No matter where I go, I’m going to drag you with me.”_

_Sang-hyuk paused. “…promise?”_

_Hak-yeon smiled, his hand reaching out to interlace their fingers together. “I promise.”_

\--

His head pounded as he felt himself slowly wake, an attempted groan raking against his swollen throat. For a short time, he couldn’t remember where he was, the harsh lights blinding him as he tried to open his eyes, his body feeling like lead as he tried to raise a hand to massage his temples. But even that was short-lived, memories of the needle in his hand, of Hak-yeon’s piercing screams, flooded his mind. He whimpered at the memory, hoarse and wretched, and he could hear the sound of something creak beside him.

“Hyuk?” Won-shik. “You there, kiddo?” Sang-hyuk gave only another groan in response, and he could hear another creak, the sound of cheap wheels rolling against the floor. “Hey, don’t move too fast. You’ve been under for a couple days now. You have to take it easy.”

“…days?” he rasped, his eyes finally adjusting enough he could crack them open, looking around blearily until he found the blurry outline of Won-shik’s face, the other man hovering over him. He didn’t recognize the room, the usual layout of desk and cabinets replaced with numerous machines and an IV, something he didn’t think the lab had. Won-shik noticed his lingering gaze, chuckling.

“You should feel honored. They had to clean out one of the unused rooms to set this up—it was a mess. No one knew what to do, eventually they found an intern who used to be a pre-med major in college or some shit.” He knew Won-shik was rambling just to fill the silence with something _,_ both now very aware of the elephant in the room but too afraid to address it. “Joon-myeon has someone report back to almost him every five minutes, it’s fucking crazy.”

“Hak-yeon…”

Won-shik faltered, pity clear in his eyes. Sang-hyuk was coming to truly despise that look. “Hak-yeon’s alive. I don’t know what shit you pulled, but whatever you did worked. They put him under surveillance just to make sure, but he’s still alive and kicking.” Sang-hyuk’s eyes brightened, a kindling of something akin to _hope_ starting in his chest, though Won-shik was quick to squash it before it even had a chance to burn. “Don’t, Hyuk. You know it—he’s not Hak-yeon anymore.”

Sang-hyuk expected himself to break down in tears again, screaming and fighting to demand him repeat that to his face. But instead he found himself cocooned in a heavy layer of numbness, feeling absolutely nothing at all as he only blinked in response. Won-shik grimaced at his reaction, running a hand through his thick hair and letting out a heavy sigh. “He’s already had that stuff in him for two days now; he’s not human anymore.” He paused, staring at him as if expecting him to say something, and the pity returned when Sang-hyuk did not but stare. How could he say anything, really? What was there to say? This was his punishment, and no matter how much he cried and begged, there was nothing he could do to change it.

“…Joon-myeon wanted me to tell you when you woke up. I…they didn’t want to chance anything, since this is all new territory. They’ve already wiped him. He’s gone.”

 _That_ broke through to him, and Sang-hyuk shot up, the IV jerking along with him as he stared at Won-shik in a mixture of horror and disbelief. Won-shik flinched back in shock, though Sang-hyuk couldn’t give two shits as he grabbed Won-shik’s collar, shaking. “They did _what?”_

Won-shik was somehow able to keep his voice level, matching Sang-hyuk’s fierce glare with ease. “They wiped him. He has no memories whatsoever. He’s even been given a model number.”

 _“No!”_ Sang-hyuk howled, shoving Won-shik back as he buried his face in his hands, running his fingers up into his hair and digging them painfully into his scalp. _No._ Hak-yeon was his friend, his shining, brilliant friend who shined even in the darkest of times. He was so bright, so _human_ —he couldn’t fathom the thought of that once vibrant being sitting in a room like Hong-bin, reflexes so slow as he waited for permission to speak and questioned the easiest of emotional shifts. He couldn’t accept the idea that he was no longer a person, relegated to a mere _model number._

“You don’t have to do it, Hyuk,” Won-shik said, staying back and giving him time. “I already have Y09, but I’m sure they can find someone-”

 _“No,”_ Sang-hyuk hissed again, glaring from behind his hands still tangled in his hair. “ _No one_ can touch him. I won’t let them.”

“Are you sure you can-?”

_“I won’t let them.”_

“You’re going to have to eventually send him to take the tests. He’s going to get taken apart and put back together. You know this; are you sure-”

 _“No one else can touch him,”_ Sang-hyuk growled, his voice growing louder every second. _“Don’t you get that? No one can touch him!”_

“And what are you going to do, huh? You think they’re going to listen to you? It’s going to happen whether you like it or not, that’s just how it goes. You know this!”

“No! No no no no no _no!”_ Sang-hyuk slammed his hands on the bed for emphasis, the IV in his arm rattling underneath his skin, but he honestly couldn’t feel it. He could feel nothing but despair and crushing guilt, the glare he tried to give near crumbling. He hiccupped, gasping for air despite nothing constraining him. “He…he raised me. He raised me and loved me more than anyone ever has. I won’t let anyone hurt him. I’ll protect him, just like he protected me. Even if that means I’m the one to do it. Don’t…don’t take him from me.”

Won-shik sighed, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms overt his chest, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I’ll let Joon-myeon know then. He won’t have any problems.” He glanced up at Sang-hyuk, uncertainty clear on his face. “You know…you’re not going to be able to call him ‘Hak-yeon’ anymore. When you see him, that is. You’re going to have to call him by his number.” When Sang-hyuk moved to protest, he cut him off. “You had to do the same with X39. It’s procedure, Hyuk.”

“But a _number-_ ”

“I know, but…it’s for the best. The man originally assigned to X39, Moon-hyuk…he had the same problem. But if you call him by his name, it’ll make working with him and performing the tests that much harder. By calling him by the model number, it distances yourself from everything.” Sang-hyuk glanced up at him, all fight draining from as he listened with the trust of a small child, having no idea what to do otherwise. He felt like he did when he first arrived, a small, sniveling child who clung to Won-shik’s every word. He really was no different now.

“Hak-yeon was your everything, wasn’t he? The Hak-yeon you know is not the hybrid thing currently sleeping in a cell room. Don’t taint his memory by calling it Hak-yeon.

“Maybe one day, when everything is done and he’s given his memories back, you can give him his name. But for now, just call him Y21. It’ll make everything easier.” Sang-hyuk curled his knees to his chest in response, wishing he could shut everything out and return back to before, back when everything was still happy and free. Back to when his biggest worry was whether his parents would fight that morning. When his greatest wish was for Hak-yeon to sneak over and spend a few hours with him. He flinched when he felt something touch his hand, and for a brief second, he looked over expecting to see Hak-yeon smiling at him, warm and calm as he teased him for crying. He couldn’t hide how disappointed he was to only see Won-shik.

If Won-shik noticed, he didn’t show it. “You have time. He’s still got to undergo tests to make sure he’s fully cleaned out. It’ll probably be a few more days; no one expects you here at the moment. Go home, take a rest. I promise we’ll keep him safe.”

Sang-hyuk wanted to snap at him, ask how he could think Sang-hyuk could just go back home after everything that happened, but in the end relented just so he could be left alone. Won-shik took the hint, sending him a sad smile before leaving.

 

Sang-hyuk was only able to stay still for a minute before his insides started to eat him alive, the overwhelming feeling of being alone threatening to choke him. He couldn’t stay here. He clumsily ripped the IV out, wincing at how it tore this his skin and left a swelling trail of blood, before falling off the bed. It was obvious he’d been out for a while, his body feeling like jelly while floating high in the clouds, stumbling everywhere as he tried to regain his balance. He managed to get to the door after nearly falling over multiple times, swinging it open only to stop short.

Where could he go? Who would be waiting for him? There was no one waiting for him in the basement anymore. There was no one waiting at home. Even here in the lab, there was no one that would welcome him with open arms and let him incoherently spill out his troubles. Standing here now, who did he have?

He kept his hands braced against the wall as he slowly made his way down the halls, his brain running on autopilot as he let his body lead the way. He only had a vague idea of where he was going, the strange looks he was receiving unable to penetrate the fog that clouded his mind. He was only aware that he was moving, the lights almost blinding against the white walls. He could see a flash of red every once in a while, and only after a period of harsh squinting did he realize he was still bleeding.

He eventually found himself bursting through Hong-bin’s door, not caring to check vitals or anything as he dazedly pulled the charger out of his chest. He didn’t wait for Hong-bin to come to, didn’t bother to greet him or even announce his arrival, merely burrowing himself into the latter’s lap and burying his face into his shirt. He could feel Hong-bin shift and crack underneath him, his body slowly whirling to life, and he hugged him fiercely.

He let out a small whine when he felt Hong-bin’s arms slowly wrap around his waist, his touch delicate as if afraid to hurt him. “Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin greeted gently.

“Hong-bin,” Sang-hyuk said, unmoving as he let the soft fabric of Hong-bin’s shirt rub against his cheeks and catch in his mouth, “would you like to hear the real end of the story? The favorite?”

He felt Hong-bin stiffen, and he whined again. “The little boy, he didn’t actually die. He worked very hard to keep him and his friend safe. He dreamed of a day that he could escape with his friend together, so he was always hardworking.” He paused and Hong-bin waited, never speaking a word and letting Sang-hyuk collect his thoughts. Hong-bin was always patient, and Sang-hyuk was grateful. “But the little boy was just like his father, and did a lot of things he shouldn’t have. The king grew angry, and had his soldiers take the little boy’s friend away. They turned him into a puppet to mock the little boy for the rest of his life.”

His voice cracked at the end, not having realized he’d started crying. “But you were right. The little boy cried. He cried for days.”

Hong-bin hummed when Sang-hyuk finished, his one hand slowly moving up to cup over Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, his touch so reassuring. Sang-hyuk reveled in it, bathed and immersed himself in the false comfort it brought. Everything Sang-hyuk had done to this point had been for Hak-yeon, and now that that was taken from him, he had no idea what to do. He was once again that small child, oblivious and naïve to the world outside of what the people around him could give.

Only now there was no one.  

When there was nothing left in him save for weak gasps, his chest heaving on nothing but lingering hopelessness, he felt a pair of lips brush his ear. 

“Sang-hyuk,” Hong-bin’s voice was sweet, the soft tone that contrasted so blatantly with his sharper features. “The story has not ended yet. Your friend may be changed, but he is still alive. If they do what they must, then he will be confused and afraid when he awakens. He will need you, so you must stay strong.” Sang-hyuk moaned, weakly shaking his head, and Hong-bin placed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Like you had done for me. You must stay strong and help him. He will need you.”

Sang-hyuk nodded only so Hong-bin would stop, letting his mind finally settle as he, for just a moment, focused on nothing more than how well he fit in Hong-bin’s embrace.


	25. Unaware

“Back again?” Jae-hwan greeted, the pulsing sounds of the music nearly drowning out his voice, the base enunciating each word and drumming against Sang-hyuk’s eardrums. Sang-hyuk didn’t answer as he collapsed onto the closest stool, his head nearly falling into his arms as he struggled to stay lucid. He purposefully worked every second he was awake, suddenly having too much time and not knowing what to do with it, and if he wasn’t working, he was here. He had come to appreciate Jae-hwan’s bright smiles and strange jokes—they kept his mind from wandering. Wandering meant thinking, and thinking was not something he could afford to do. 

He could feel the music thrumming through his body as he pressed against the countertop, bodies pushing against him as people brushed past, voices high-pitched and loud as they danced, the heat creeping through his skin and forming hot sweat against his clothes and dripping down his face, and Sang-hyuk suddenly felt cramped. There were too many people, it was too loud and too crowded, and he suddenly regretted coming. He shot up in his seat to say goodbye, to run away, but when he saw Jae-hwan turn his head to ask what he wanted, he found the words stuck.

This was what he wanted, right?

For just a minute to escape his heaven and hell, to run away and enjoy a few moments of distraction. To escape the sharp eyes that watched him, scrutinized him, waited for him; to escape the childish innocence that will soon be expecting him.

“Give me something,” he nearly begged, his voice strained, and Jae-hwan’s gaze flickered briefly before he was moving, grabbing a glass and pouring something. He was never really sure what Jae-hwan gave him—he just drank enough of it until the world stopped making sense and his mind wasn’t allowed to think. “Anything,” he added as he blindly grabbed for the glass, his head pounding as he knocked the drink back—only to immediately spit it back out.

“What the fuck?” he snarled, slamming the glass down and sending water flying everywhere. At one time he would’ve been appalled at his behavior, embarrassed and ashamed at the irrational anger. But none of that mattered now. Jae-hwan was nonplussed at his reaction, merely grabbing a rag to wipe the counter clean.

“You shouldn’t be drinking so much,” he said simply, the admonishing tone triggering a rage Sang-hyuk didn’t know he had.

“Who are you, my mother?” he snapped, and his eyes widened as the knife lodged in his heart dug itself that much deeper. This wasn’t why he came here. He didn’t come here to think. He didn’t come to _feel._

He ran away.

\--

Every time he looked in the mirror he could feel nothing but overwhelming _disgust,_ a flurried mix that grew more heated and confused the longer he stared. He hated the sallow skin, the slight rising of his chest that left fogged breaths against the glass. He hated the bony, shaking hands that gripped the edges of the sink, the fingers still strong despite how often he dreamt of breaking them. He hated how the shirts that had once hugged his frame now hung loosely, his collarbones sharp as they poked through the collars. He hated everything about him—

—but it was only when he saw his red-rimmed eyes, red from crying and ringed black from lack of sleep, that he felt guilt. He knew how much Hak-yeon had worked to keep him healthy and happy, and he felt so incredibly _guilty_ at what he had become.

He avoided mirrors.

\--

_“Sang-hyukkie,” Hak-yeon drawled, rolling his head to stare at Sang-hyuk sitting dutifully at his desk, working through the math assignment his father had given him. Hak-yeon had come over the moment Sang-hyuk had messaged him that his father had gone away, and after a while of them playing around and doing absolutely nothing, Sang-hyuk had gone to do his homework. While Hak-yeon was never happy watching Sang-hyuk work, mostly because he was so lazy, he never forced him to stop. No, instead he just sprawled out on Sang-hyuk’s bed and whined until Sang-hyuk gave him the attention he wanted._

_Sang-hyuk ignored him, though he couldn’t hide how his lips turned up at Hak-yeon’s complaining._

_“I’m_ bored _,” Hak-yeon tried again, rolling onto his stomach and swatting uselessly at Sang-hyuk’s leg, his fingertips brushing Sang-hyuk’s elbow. Sang-hyuk leveled him with an attempted glare, his lips trembling from how much he wanted to laugh at Hak-yeon’s ridiculously wide eyes and pleading pout. “Hyukkie, please play with me.”_

_“I have to do my homework,” he tried to argue. That only made Hak-yeon widen his eyes even more, scooching forward and tugging pitifully on his sleeve._

_“But I’m_ bored _, Hyukkie. Your homework will be there regardless. Come play with me; you don’t want to leave me all sad, do you?” He knew what Hak-yeon was trying to do, but he found himself unable to fight as he broke into a wide smile, throwing his pencil down as he launched himself onto the bed, bursting into happy giggles as Hak-yeon engulfed him in a large hug and smothered him with kisses._

\--

Hong-bin noticed immediately.

In the past few weeks, Hong-bin had become extremely attuned to Sang-hyuk’s moods, something he hadn’t thought possible but accepted with little thought. He found himself hiding away here more often than not, unable to just _go home_ like Won-shik had told him. When he wasn’t in his office or wasting away drunk off his ass, he was here, doing unnecessary tests just so he could have something to do.

“Sang-hyuk, has something happened?” Hong-bin did not push away the hand that played with his fingers, his eyes focused solely on how sharply Sang-hyuk inhaled, how quickly his eyes darted down. He waited patiently for Sang-hyuk’s answer, eventually twisting his hand around so he could instead hold Sang-hyuk’s, running his fingers up and down in a soothing fashion. He was truly showing how quickly he could learn, already knowing so many ways to calm him that not even Sang-hyuk had known.

“What do you mean?” He grinned so widely he was sure his face would crack, revealing all the layers he had built over the years. He could feel them breaking away little by little as the days passed, the strength he once had to keep them sapped away with every second he breathed. “You don’t like me coming to visit?”

Hong-bin’s expression didn’t change, his hand stopping. “I have never said such a thing. You are acting differently, and it is something I have learned is not good. Did something happen to your friend?”

Sang-hyuk did his best to suppress the urge to cry, blinking rapidly. He had no more tears; there was nothing left. “The little boy has been kept away by the king’s soldiers. They want to wait until the friend is empty, then they’ll bring him out. Until then, the little boy can only wait.”

Hong-bin’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will wait with you.”

Sang-hyuk ended the test.

\--

_“Hyukkie,” Hak-yeon said one night, the two of them huddled in the living room, the lights off and the room cold, only the lulling sound of traffic cutting through the silence between them. Sang-hyuk refused to answer him, curled in a ball at the foot of the sofa, unable to look him in the eye as he shivered. He could hear Hak-yeon sigh, and while he knew he was being difficult, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. “Hyuk, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”_

_“You can’t help,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse._

_“You don’t know that,” Hak-yeon insisted, his voice firm yet layered with kindness. “I can help more than you know. You just have to let me.”_

_“I can’t.” He couldn’t taint Hak-yeon. Everything was his fault; he couldn’t force Hak-yeon into anything more because of him._

_He could hear Hak-yeon sigh, the floor creaking as he shifted, and he tensed as he felt the softest of brushes against his cheek. He tried his best to keep his head down, secretly reveling in Hak-yeon’s touch,. He heard Hak-yeon whisper his name, pleading, and he finally lifted his head to look at him, reassure him that everything was fine, his eyes turning up to see Hak-yeon’s wonderful smile—_

“Hello, Sang-hyuk.”

Sang-hyuk shifted uncomfortably under Joon-myeon’s stare, knowing exactly why the other had called him. It was only a matter of time before…before _he_ was finished, and he would be forced to finally confront the demons he had been desperately trying to avoid. It had been estimated to be about a week before _he_ was completed, mem—…memories wiped and superficial blemishes cleared away. When they would meet again, he would appear as if an angel, with hair feather soft and skin as smooth as a newborn child.

He would be a stranger entirely, unfit of the name Cha Hak-yeon.

Joon-myeon for once didn’t appear annoyed at Sang-hyuk’s silence, letting out a soft sigh as he fingered a pile of papers on his desk. Sang-hyuk wanted to believe there was a sliver of remorse in the other’s expression, but he couldn’t trust himself to believe anything anymore, so he instead focused his gaze on his own hands. “How’ve you been doing?” he finally asked, and Sang-hyuk scoffed before he could stop himself.

“How do you think I’m doing?” he retorted dryly, meeting Joon-myeon’s eye and, for the first time, finding himself unafraid. It was a strange realization; Joon-myeon had always appeared terrifying and untouchable, just a single twitch of his brow sending rivets of such terror that Sang-hyuk had barely been able to breathe. But sitting here now, with his entire world torn to shreds and no way to pick up the pieces, he was unable to feel that same fear, Joon-myeon’s supposedly terrifying stare doing nothing more than making him laugh. “I’m assuming everything’s done, if that’s why I’m here.”

Joon-myeon frowned at the brashness in his tone, his hand stilling over the papers. “I would be careful if I were you, Sang-hyuk. There is only so much understanding we can give before boldness becomes defiance.” Sang-hyuk didn’t feel any of the threat laced into those words but stayed appropriately quiet, merely clenching his jaw when Joon-myeon pushed the papers towards him. “It—ah, he’s ready. Everything was finished last night.”

Sang-hyuk’s hands shook as he slowly reached out to take the papers, his breath short and his eyes glossing with tears he didn’t know he still had. He pressed his lips tightly, blinking rapidly as he carefully looked through the pages. Nowhere did it say Hak-yeon’s name, his identity fully erased as he was labelled with the simple model number ‘Y21’. Through the report he was able to see the entirety of his process, from the drugs pumped through his body to the tests checking his reflexes. He was barely aware of the paper crinkling under his grip, tears dotting the pages as he finally turned to Hak-yeon’s profile page, complete with a picture.

That was not Hak-yeon.

The technicians were thorough. What stared out from that picture looked nothing like Hak-yeon, the sharp features and empty expression now the same as Hong-bin and T52. It was as if someone had taken Hak-yeon’s features and tried to make a replica, getting the basic shape of his face and yet stretching out the skin just enough it wasn’t right. The full, round cheeks that Hak-yeon had always complained about were gone, the skin he had worked so hard to lighten now pale in comparison. But what stood out the most was his eyes. What had once shined no longer shone, his gaze empty and lifeless.

He had killed Hak-yeon, and they had buried him.

“None of us wanted this to happen,” Joon-myeon finally said, his voice soft. “While it’s not the best, at least he survived. You can still be with him.”

“Survived?” he hiccupped, looking up at Joon-myeon in disbelief. “Hak-yeon died. This…this is not him.” He slammed the papers down, shaking his head. “This isn’t him.”

Joon-myeon didn’t look convinced as he merely nodded. “If you can keep that up, you’ll be just fine.” He waited until Sang-hyuk looked him in the eye before continuing, his smile deceiving. “But there’s always a glimmer of hope—you’ve been promoted.”

Sang-hyuk blinked. “I what?”

“You’ve been promoted. With your current position, you can’t be in charge of Hak-yeon, nor make any decisions over the progress of his tests. Won-shik told me you wanted to take him—this is the only way. You’ll be given the title ‘Doctor’, and you’ll be able to schedule his tests to your liking, as well as having full access to the lab archive—with permission of course.” Joon-myeon’s smile dropped, his eyes taking an edge. “But just because you’ll have the ability to choose doesn’t mean you can hide. He _will_ undergo the tests, and he _will_ be experimented on. He is no different than X39 or T52, or even Y09. You can’t protect him.”

Sang-hyuk leaned forward, matching his gaze and sharpening his voice until it threatened to pierce. “Watch me.”

\--

Sang-hyuk went to his office first before daring to go anywhere near Hak-yeon—he refused to look anything short of presentable before meeting him. Sleeping downstairs and wearing the same clothes every day; he couldn’t and _wouldn’t_ show that as the first thing Hak-yeon would see. He opened the door only to stop short at the sight of Chan-sik huddled on a chair, the younger boy hurriedly scrambling to sit straight. Sang-hyuk awkwardly waved him down as he side-stepped inside, keeping his eyes down as he made his way over to his desk.

…he had forgotten about Chan-sik. Since Chan-yeol’s… _transfer,_ Sang-hyuk had reluctantly grown used to the shadow that followed him nearly everywhere. He had never really known how much being a mentor had entailed, feeling self-conscious with how intently Chan-sik watched him, nodding along to Sang-hyuk’s every word. It terrified Sang-hyuk; he had no idea what he himself was doing half the time, and felt he was the last person who should be mentoring anybody. And with how little he spent in the present, his mind always a flurry of memories and pain, he was sure Chan-sik wasn’t learning anything.

Everyone had always joked that Won-shik had been a terrible mentor, but Sang-hyuk was sure he was absolute shit in comparison.

Luckily Chan-yeol had trained him well, so he knew what to do even when Sang-hyuk forgot to tell him. It wasn’t great, but it was a routine they eventually made, and while neither really knew what to say or how to get along, they got the job done.

“Are we going to see X39, sir?” Chan-sik asked quietly, chewing on his bottom lip when Sang-hyuk stood in front of his mirror, fixing his hair. The uneasiness in the room was near palpable, and Sang-hyuk was in no mood to address it. He grimaced at his appearance, eyes bloodshot and lips dried, but he knew there was nothing he could do with that. He turned to leave and Chan-sik hurried to follow him. “Sang-hyuk, sir-”

“You don’t need to come,” Sang-hyuk said quietly, pausing by the door to glance back at the timid look the other boy sent him. He hated the way Chan-sik looked at him. “I’m not going to see X39 right now.”

“T-then what should I-?”

“Just stay here. I…I’ll come get you when I need you.” Chan-sik looked hurt but nodded regardless, hanging his head as he silently stepped back. Sang-hyuk regretted his harsh words but did nothing to take them back, only biting the inside of his cheek before stepping out the door.

_He sniffled as he sat in the piles of blankets wrapped around himself, his lower lip jutted out as his hands struggled to wipe away the tears that stuck to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what he did to make his daddy so mad, all he did was give him a good morning hug. But his daddy must not have been very happy, because he yelled at Sang-hyuk and told him to go to his room. He’d wanted to cry but stopped himself, knowing he was a big boy and big boys didn’t cry. But once he was alone he couldn’t help crying sadly into his pillow. Both his parents had started to be really weird recently, and it made him so sad._

_He jumped at the sound of knocking on the front door, immediately scrambling out of bed and running to his door, pressing his ear against the cold wood. Nobody every came to their house anymore. He wondered if his daddy was bringing friends over, and he secretly hoped they would come say hi. Sang-hyuk always liked making friends. But he knew he still wasn’t allowed out of his room, so he just waited for someone to come get him._

_He didn’t know how long he sat there, listening to the sound of his daddy’s voice speaking with strangers, when something moving outside his window caught his attention. He immediately forgot all about his daddy as he ran to his window, curiously standing on his tiptoes to try and see._

_He looked around until he spotted a boy not much older than himself kicking at some wild flowers. His fingers grasping at the windowsill tightened at the sight of the boy, thinking him the prettiest boy he had ever seen. He had light fluffy hair that bounced every time he moved, his skin warm and glowing underneath the sun. Sang-hyuk himself was super pale because he hid inside all the time, and he couldn’t help but be jealous at how pretty the boy was. The boy looked up to glance back, maybe looking for someone, and Sang-hyuk stared at the pretty boy’s face. He wanted to call out and say hi, maybe ask the pretty boy to come inside and play with him, until he remembered his daddy and his friends. So he decided to just stay and watch—until the boy turned back around and met his eye._

He held his breath as he turned the doorknob, nearly shaking as he slowly swung the door open. Everything looked just the same, the desk, the cabinet, the _bed_ —but there was nothing sitting in wait for him. No, what greeted him was a body that looked nothing short of _human_ lying on the bed, head cushioned by a pillow and blanket covering up to his chin. His footsteps stuttered as he walked towards the bedside, his lips trembling; the profile picture had nothing on the real thing.

Hak-yeon was still clear as day despite how much they had changed, his expression almost peaceful as he slept. Sang-hyuk’s hand shook from the urge to brush away the loose strands of hair from his face. He wanted to do so much—kiss him awake, hug him until he coughed, take him to that dinner he always promised, to finally finish a movie together—but he only sat down in the chair, letting the tears fall as he realized he would never be able to do that. Hak-yeon would never be able to go home, would never be able to watch a movie, or even eat dinner. He probably wouldn’t even know what any of those things were anymore.

No, Hak-yeon was dead, and this was just something that looked like him. No matter what happened, they were two different people. He repeated this in his head like a mantra until Hak-yeon’s eyes fluttered open, blinking with nothing but confusion in his eyes.

Sang-hyuk straightened in his chair, furiously wiping his face dry and schooling his expression into a picture of perfection. While Hak-yeon may be gone, this was still him, and he would be damned if he gave him anything less than the care and love he deserved.

He watched as Hak-yeon’s eyes carefully scanned the room, giving him as much time as he needed to come to terms with his situation. He watched Hak-yeon tentatively move his hands around, his movements clumsy, and his heart hurt when he realized why. Hak-yeon was still new, was still complete, and wouldn’t be able to feel. He bit his lip to keep himself quiet, his hands shaking. A kiss, a hug, a brush, a touch—he wouldn’t be able to feel any of that anymore.

Hak-yeon’s eyes eventually fell on Sang-hyuk, his face expressionless as his eyes stared, and Sang-hyuk struggled to greet him. Hak-yeon was waiting for him, needed him, and yet he couldn’t find the words to say.

_The boy’s face broke out into a wide smile, waving at Sang-hyuk and motioning for him to come outside. Sang-hyuk really wanted to, but he knew he wasn’t allowed. He knew his daddy would be really mad if he did. The boy frowned when Sang-hyuk shook his head, giving a small pout before glancing back one more time, giggling as he ran up to Sang-hyuk’s window. Sang-hyuk was only scared for a second before he was hurriedly pulling his chair up to the window, standing on top so he could look out easier._

_“Hi!” the boy greeted, his whole face shining as he waved. His teeth were so white and his eyes glowed in the sunlight, and Sang-hyuk gaped in childish wonder._

_“You’re so pretty,” he said truthfully, and pouted embarrassedly when the boy laughed._

_“You’re so cute! What’s your name? Mine’s Cha Hak-yeon.” Sang-hyuk blinked in surprise when Hak-yeon rested his arms against the windowsill, leaning forward so his face was only inches from his own. He instinctively pulled back, shy, a timid smile on his lips as he whispered his name. Hak-yeon’s smile widened at his answer. “Well, hello, Sang-hyukkie! What are you doing hiding in here by yourself?”_

_“I-I’m not allowed outside. My daddy says it’s not safe.” For a second Hak-yeon’s smile dropped and Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure why. He wondered if he said something bad, and he was suddenly scared that Hak-yeon would get angry and leave. He always seemed to make his daddy angry and leave. “But I’m a big boy, so I can do it. My mommy says I’m a big boy, so I can be in here all by myself.”_

_Hak-yeon laughed, and Sang-hyuk was proud of himself for making him smile._

Sang-hyuk flinched when he realized Hak-yeon had looked away, losing his chance to introduce himself. He opened his mouth, struggling for words, and finally stammered out, “Y-you, do you know where you are?”

Hak-yeon turned back to him, but didn’t answer. His face didn’t move, not even a twitch of his brow. Hak-yeon had always been expressive, and seeing him so blank felt like someone tearing his heart out and ripping it to pieces. He tried asking the normal questions saved for this occasion, trying desperately to see him as nothing more than a test subject, and found himself cracking when Hak-yeon did nothing but stare. He could feel tears falling despite how hard he tried to stop them, quickly ducking his head as he let out heavy breaths, rubbing at his eyes to try and stop shaking. He had to be strong. Hong-bin was right, Hak-yeon needed him. He had to be strong.

“Do you…do you know who you are?”

For a split second he expected Hak-yeon to snap, asking what he was doing before mercilessly teasing him. But of course he wouldn’t, Hak-yeon speaking for the first time in the same monotone that Hong-bin had used for so many years. “I do not.”

_“Do you have any friends?” Hak-yeon asked, tilting his head to try and peek inside his room. Sang-hyuk felt his cheeks flush when he realized how messy his room probably was, standing at his full height to try and block Hak-yeon’s view. Hak-yeon chuckled at Sang-hyuk’s attempt, his lips pressed together to hide his smile as he reached out and took Sang-hyuk’s chubby hands in his own, squishing his palms. “No need to be so shy. My room’s super messy too. My nanny hates it, she always scolds me as she cleans it.”_

_“You have a nanny?”_

_Hak-yeon’s smile fell slightly, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, but she’s not very nice. She doesn’t like me too much, so I don’t like her either. But my parents pay her a lot of money, so she always does everything I ask her.” Hak-yeon didn’t look like he liked talking about his nanny, hurriedly changing the subject. “But really, do you have any friends, Hyukkie?”_

_Sang-hyuk shook his head. “No. I had to say bye to all my friends when we moved here. I don’t have any friends anymore.”_

_“Yes, you do!” Sang-hyuk frowned, confused since he was very sure he didn’t, when Hak-yeon patted his chubby hand excitedly. “I’m your friend! We’re friends, right?”_

_Sang-hyuk’s mouth dropped open, unable to see how he couldn’t have figured that out sooner. “Really? We’re friends?”_

_“Of course! We’re gonna be bestest friends forever!” Sang-hyuk was still in shock when Hak-yeon shoved his pinky in his face, grinning brightly. “Promise?”_

_Sang-hyuk scrambled to lock their pinkies, for the first time grinning just as bright as he nodded firmly. “Promise!”_

He nearly collapsed as he staggered out of the room, Hak-yeon’s voice ringing in his ears and crushing his chest. He knew it had been a mistake when he asked if Hak-yeon remembered him, for just a second hoping beyond hope that Hak-yeon had somehow managed to stay. But harboring hope was only asking for pain, and there were no words to describe the pain he felt when Hak-yeon answered with three simple words— _I do not._ Hak-yeon was gone, was really _gone,_ and there was nothing he could do to change that.

He took a deep, quivering breath before turning around—only to crash straight into a cart. He grunted at the sharp pain in his side, rubbing his throbbing hip mindlessly as he looked up to see a man standing frozen in front of him, eyes wide in horror. Sang-hyuk frowned, his hand slowly stilling as he saw what was on the cart and realized what the man was trying to do.

His eyes narrowed, hardening his voice as he demanded, “What are you doing?”

The man looked about ready to piss himself, bowing his head as he subconsciously stepped back, dragging the cart with him. “I’m sorry, Doctor Han. I didn’t mean to hit you, I-”

“I asked,” he gritted, “ _what are you doing_?”

The man snapped his mouth shut, biting his bottom lip and his left eye twitching nervously. “I-I was told to feed Y21.”

“What?” he growled, ignoring how the man looked like he wanted to die as his hands tightened into fists. “No one told me that. What’s your name? Who sent you?”

“My n-name’s Kim Seok-jin. Doctor Kim Won-shik sent me.”

“Won-shik?” he asked in disbelief, all anger momentarily replaced with genuine surprise. When did Won-shik assign anyone to Hak-yeon? And why… _why hadn’t he said anything?_

He left the poor intern alone as he stormed through the lab, everyone hurrying out of his way as he slammed open Won-shik’s door, too angry to laugh at how the latter nearly fell out of his chair, shrieking at the sudden entrance. Won-shik scrambled to his feet all the while looking ready to snap at him, though he stayed silent when he saw the furious scowl Sang-hyuk sent him, rage emanating off him in waves. Sang-hyuk didn’t wait for pleasantries as he stalked forward, flinging the guest chair against the wall as he slammed his hands on the desk, meeting Won-shik’s purposefully impassive gaze with a glare.

“When did you assign an intern to Hak-yeon?”

“An intern is always assigned to take care of the cyborg’s necessities. It was only a matter of time.”

The calm words and even tone did nothing to ease Sang-hyuk’s nerves, his whole body shaking as he tried to control himself. He wasn’t sure what about the new intern upset him, knowing there was no real reason for him to be so angry. Hak-yeon…as much as it hurt him to accept it, was a test subject now, and was going to go through all the normal procedures to become a proper cyborg. There was nothing different about him despite how much Sang-hyuk insisted there was, and there was nothing wrong with an intern being assigned to care for him. But the idea of anyone else touching Hak-yeon, even _seeing_ Hak-yeon, set a fire inside him that he had no way of stopping.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was a small whimper laced between the viciousness, and Won-shik caught onto it immediately.

“How could I? You know better than anyone how you’ve been hiding from everyone. You never gave me a chance.”

“But you assigned him to Hak-yeon…you gave him Hak-yeon…” He stopped himself before he could break down, refusing to be weak again. He had always obeyed, always listened, and it had brought him nothing but pain and regret. “You should have told me regardless! Hak-yeon is under me, everything that goes on with him should go through me _first.”_

Won-shik frowned at his pulling rank, matching his glare. “You may have the title, but you’re not ready for the responsibility. Even if I told you, what would you do? Say no? There needs to be someone to feed it, and I doubt you could do it.”

Sang-hyuk floundered. “You still have to tell me first-!”

Won-shik scoffed. “You’re not mentally ready to be in charge. You’re barely capable of functioning as a normal human being on your own, how are you really ready to be in charge of a cyborg? Y21 is new and malleable, it needs someone confident-” Won-shik jumped back when Sang-hyuk suddenly swung his arm out and shoved everything on his desk to the floor, the computer monitor shattering and sending glass everywhere. He looked back up to Sang-hyuk in shock, his eyes wide and for the first time with a hint of fear.

“His name,” Sang-hyuk heaved, his shoulders hunched over as he braced himself against the desk, the fire burning hotter and hotter as he felt himself losing, “is Hak-yeon. His name is fucking _Hak-yeon!_ Don’t you _ever_ call him in an ‘it’ in front of me again!”

“Sang-hyuk…” Won-shik whispered, but Sang-hyuk could hear nothing, his mind clouded and the sound lost on him.

“Don’t…” Sang-hyuk stood up, tilting his head back as he stared down at Won-shik, suddenly so tired, “don’t ever do anything to Hak-yeon again without telling me. He’s _mine_ and _mine_ alone. If you ever do it again…I won’t stand for it.” He didn’t wait to hear Won-shik’s response, turning on his heel and promptly exiting the room, leaving Won-shik to stand in the mess that he had created.

\--

_He glanced nervously over to Hak-yeon, watching as his friend casually picked at the side dishes. He couldn’t help but be jealous at how calm he was, wishing he could be just as cool as he felt his stomach nearly clawing in on itself from nerves. On the other side of the table his mother stared at the two of them, her gaze piercing._

_It had been years since Hak-yeon first started sneaking over to meet him, and while Sang-hyuk was still extremely cautious whenever his father was around, he had long since disregarded his mother. She rarely came out even to see_ him _, let alone when there was anyone else around, and he had assumed she didn’t mind whenever Hak-yeon would visit. Which he discovered was the wrong assumption, his mother suddenly bursting into his room during one of Hak-yeon’s tickle attacks, Sang-hyuk’s shrieks of laughter stopping and his eyes widening in horror._

_While she hadn’t said anything then, merely staring at them for a long minute before silently leaving, she had made dinner that night. She never said anything, but he knew she was expecting the both of them. Which was how the three of them were all sitting at the table, the atmosphere near stifling as Hak-yeon continued to eat despite Sang-hyuk and his mother not touching a single thing._

_His mother’s eyes shot down to where Hak-yeon had tried to secretly take Sang-hyuk’s hand, her face eerily blank. “Who is he?” she asked, and Sang-hyuk felt goosebumps run across his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard his mother’s voice._

Sang-hyuk was gasping for air by the time the thumping base of the club music hit him, ignoring the bouncer who greeted him familiarly and heading straight for the bar. He could hear people shout and grumble at him as he shoved past, but he couldn’t be bothered until he felt the cold plaster of the bar under his fingertips, the familiar digging of the sharp edge pushing into his chest. He glanced around blearily for Jae-hwan, frowning when he didn’t see him. Jae-hwan was always here; Sang-hyuk had been convinced the man worked every day from how many times he saw him despite Sang-hyuk coming at the oddest times. To find him missing caused his fingers to thrum, swallowing heavily as he nervously glanced at the other bartenders.

How could he order? Sang-hyuk had no idea what any of the drink names actually were, and when asked was too afraid to even say a word. He knew Jae-hwan, and was comfortable enough to mumble a few words here and there—but he needed a drink. He needed _something_ to help him forget everything, and this was the only place he knew.

“Well, hello there! Miss me?” a voice suddenly shouted in his ear, and he whirled around to see Jae-hwan grinning behind him, having leaned over to shout in his ear. Sang-hyuk’s mouth dropped in shock to see the other man on the same side of the bar as himself, looking him up and down to see he was actually dressed for a night out, his hair gelled up and clothes so tight he was sure Jae-hwan must’ve painted them on. He suddenly felt small next to him despite being taller, the distance the bar had always put between them now gone.

Jae-hwan seemed to recognize Sang-hyuk’s growing panic, his smile softening as he took a small step back, widening the distance and giving Sang-hyuk room to breathe. “I’m guessing you came here because you missed my handsome face, right?”

Sang-hyuk should be used to the stupid jokes Jae-hwan always tried to use but found his voice lost, still absolutely thrown and unsure what to do. Jae-hwan awkwardly scratched the back of his head, glancing around as if looking for something before flashing another smile. “Well, I’m technically off today, but I can go back and make you something really quick, if you want.”

Sang-hyuk nodded so desperately his head hurt, and he could see Jae-hwan thought the same by the small grimace that passed over his face as he headed back behind the bar. He could see some of the other bartenders send him a confused look, though all Jae-hwan had to do was send a few blinding grins and a couple jokes before they left him alone. Sang-hyuk watched him all the while, grasping onto the counter like a lifeline. He wished he felt guilty making Jae-hwan work on his day off, knowing the other man was too nice to say no, but felt nothing of the sort as he nearly lunged for the glass before Jae-hwan even put it down.

Sang-hyuk had always been selfish—only now he was coming to accept that.

He downed the entire glass in one go, feeling some rush down his chin and over his hands, the alcohol burning dangerously. But it was a feeling he craved, _needed,_ and he slammed the glass down and stared at Jae-hwan impatiently, wordlessly demanding another. Jae-hwan’s smile was gone completely as he carefully pried the glass out of Sang-hyuk’s hand, his expression serious as he filled it again. Sang-hyuk couldn’t care less as he downed that glass too, the burn so hard yet so good that he could see stars in his eyes and his body clench in desire.

It was when he was about to drink his third glass that a hand shot out and stopped him, and he snapped his head around to find Won-shik clutching at his wrist, holding him still.

_Hak-yeon put his chopsticks down to flash his mother a brilliant smile, a completely useless attempt since his mother did nothing but stare at him. “I’m Cha Hak-yeon! I’m Sang-hyukkie’s friend.” Sang-hyuk felt his face flush, embarrassed and a little worried at how his mother would react. She never went out of her way to scold him or forbid him from having friends, but she was always on his father’s side. If his father ever found out about Hak-yeon, he didn’t know what he would do._

_Hak-yeon’s calm demeanor cracked slightly when his mother’s eyes narrowed, the small twitch the only indication she heard him. Sang-hyuk felt his heart race as he worriedly turned to Hak-yeon, suddenly terrified that Hak-yeon would get scared away and never come back. Hak-yeon saw him and gave him a reassuring smile, taking his hand and squeezing gently._

Sang-hyuk stumbled back when Won-shik strode past him, blinking confusedly when he found his glass already gone and cleaned. He narrowed his eyes when Won-shik easily fell onto the nearest stool, waving tiredly at Jae-hwan in a way that was much too friendly to be polite. He stayed back as Jae-hwan excitedly threw his rag down and leaned against the countertop, his eyes sparkling, asking how Won-shik was and whether he wanted to do anything. Everything was slowly becoming clear, understanding blooming from his chest, and he was unaware of his hand shooting out and grabbing Won-shik’s arm, yanking him right off the stool.

Jae-hwan shouted in surprise while Won-shik openly cursed, the latter’s dark eyes glaring until he saw Sang-hyuk, his lips pursing. “What do you want, Sang-hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk’s jaw clenched. “What are you doing here?”

Jae-hwan cursed before rushing out from behind the bar, shoving past the people crowded around and quickly pushing them apart. Sang-hyuk noted how he hovered by Won-shik’s side, the stupidly blinding smile of his gone as he frowned concernedly at Sang-hyuk. The sight triggered something inside of him, his breath suddenly so short and his vision tunneling until he could see nothing but the way Jae-hwan’s hand rested on Won-shik’s arm.

Jae-hwan tried explaining, rushing. “It’s not what it looks like-”

“All this time…” Sang-hyuk hissed, breath getting heavier every second, “…I thought I was safe. I thought this was the only place where you guys couldn’t watch me…”

_“He is your friend?” his mother asked slowly, her eyes focused on their hands. Sang-hyuk took a second before nervously nodding his head, his cheeks still warm as he grasped onto Hak-yeon like a lifeline. She didn’t speak again, her silence making everything worse, until Hak-yeon cleared his throat, saving him._

Won-shik shook Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, his eyes so dark Sang-hyuk couldn’t even see his reflection in the light. Not that there would be anything worth seeing. “Sang-hyuk, look at me.” He waited until Sang-hyuk finally met his gaze, letting out a small sigh of relief when he did. “This is all a misunderstanding-”

“How can it be a misunderstanding?” he cried, his voice shooting up so high a couple people glanced at them curiously. “You…you’re the one that told me never to come back here! Are you saying you just happened to come here on your own? Are you trying to tell me you’re not following me?”

“Why would I need to follow you? I’ve known you’ve been coming here for months now-!”

“ _Then what are you doing here_?” He was screaming now, the buzz working through his veins and making everything so easy. He hadn’t drunk enough for him to fully escape, but enough had made it through his system that his mind was wonderfully clouded and his body free. Words that he would’ve been too afraid to say easily fell from lips, the thoughts that had sounded too gobbled in his mind now threaded with eloquence as the alcohol turned them into gold. _“Why are you suddenly acting like you care about me?_ For _years_ everyone acted like they hated me, and I knew that! But all of a sudden you pretend you care about whether I’m sleeping enough, or if I spend time with—” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath as he shoved Won-shik back. “And now after everything, you all start pretending like we’re friends, trying to comfort me or some shit— _I don’t want it!”_

Jae-hwan had fallen into a confused silence while Won-shik silently took all the abuse Sang-hyuk flung at him, Sang-hyuk oblivious to the crowd that had formed around them. The music continued above but it was almost comical, no one listening anymore as they all stared and watched the scene Sang-hyuk unknowingly continued to make.

“A-and now, when I have nothing left and you’re all still _bothering me_ , you come out and find me at the one place where I thought you couldn’t _get me!_ There are no cameras here, no microphones or anything, but you still find me and act like _I’m_ the one wrong! Why? Why can’t I ever have _anything?_ Why are _you_ able to have friends when I can’t? Why is everyone always _taken_ from me?”

Won-shik’s mouth was turned into a hard line as Sang-hyuk’s spiel began to border on dangerous, stepping forward before anything else was said. “Don’t pretend to be guiltless. You know whose fault it is.”

“I _know_ it’s my goddamn fault, but he shouldn’t have had to pay for that! It’s my fault! _Mine!”_ Jae-hwan shrieked when Sang-hyuk suddenly grabbed a stool, frustration and grief fueling him as he hurled it to the floor, his strength so weak it did nothing but clatter uselessly. Sang-hyuk was unaware of the bouncers moving towards them, so caught up in his whirling emotions that Won-shik had to grab him, bowing apologetically to Jae-hwan before dragging him out of there.

_“I promise I won’t do anything to hurt Sang-hyuk,” Hak-yeon proclaimed. “I only want to make Sang-hyuk happy. I promise I won’t ever make him cry, or feel lonely.” His mother only looked at Sang-hyuk, waiting for his reaction to the words to find the truth. When Sang-hyuk only continued to blush while staring at Hak-yeon with nothing but adoration, her hard stance finally softened, eventually nodding her head. Sang-hyuk’s eyes widened in surprise, having never expected her to agree to anything._

_Hak-yeon also seemed to have been surprised, taking a few seconds to recover. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his smile genuine. “But I have to ask that you keep this a secret. I have a feeling no one else will be happy about this.”_

_She seemed to hesitate here, her face blank in thought before she answered, her voice low and short. “If Sang-hyuk is happy, then I must obey.”_

They didn’t go far, only down a small alleyway, before Won-shik whirled around and punched Sang-hyuk square in the jaw. Sang-hyuk gasped as his brain sluggishly registered the pain, staggering back when Won-shik lurched forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, his grip incredibly hard. It was only when they were inches apart, Won-shik’s breath ghosting over Sang-hyuk’s face and the smell of alcohol burning their noses that Sang-hyuk finally registered the pain in Won-shik’s eyes, finally noticing how close to crying the other was.

Sang-hyuk had never seen Won-shik cry.

“Goddamnit Hyuk,” he said, his voice quivering, “get a hold of yourself! Getting drunk off your ass and hiding in the past…that’s _not_ going to help you! You don’t know how absolutely fucking terrifying it is to watch you…it’s like you’re never there anymore. I look at you and it’s like you don’t see me-” he cut himself off to take a deep breath, shaking Sang-hyuk again to keep him present, “but don’t _ever_ say I don’t care about you. I care about you more than you realize, and I’m trying to look out for you, but you just won’t _let_ me.”

“I d-don’t-” Sang-hyuk tried, shaking his head as his jumbled mind grew foggier by the second, Won-shik’s words unable to make sense no matter how hard he tried.

“Don’t you _get it?_ You think I didn’t notice? You can’t keep running away whenever things get hard. You have to face it and do your fucking best, that’s the only way to survive.” When Sang-hyuk murmured blearily, his fingers weakly tugging at Won-shik’s death grip, Won-shik shoved him against the wall, holding him still while making sure not to hurt him. “Fucking _listen_ to me, Hyuk! You keep talking big about how you’re going to take care of Hak-yeon, but when are you going to realize you’re going to have to actually _do_ shit to keep your worth? If you keep running away and hiding every time Hak-yeon even _looks_ at you, do you really think they’re going to let you keep him?”

Sang-hyuk whimpered, his attempts to escape turning to pathetic begging, grasping at Won-shik’s jacket with fingers too stiff to actually hold anything. Hak-yeon…they couldn’t take him, but something in Won-shik’s voice terrified him. They really could take him away, and if he lost Hak-yeon, he would really have nothing left.

“Won-shikkie…” he managed, the sound strangled, and Won-shik let out a stifled cry of his own, dropping his head to gather his composure.

“Hak-yeon needs you, Hyuk. Fuck, X39 needs you. You’re not here for yourself anymore; they’re watching you. You can’t afford to run away, not now. You have to be strong, understand?” Sang-hyuk nodded pitifully, and sniffled when Won-shik let out a long sigh before pulling him into a warm hug. Sang-hyuk clung to him like a child, burrowing his face in his shoulder and inhaling the strong scent of smoke and cologne. He had never tried to get close enough to Won-shik to know if he smoked, or what kind of cologne he used, but he was grateful for the distraction nonetheless.

“I know it’s easier for you to hide, but you can’t. Not anymore.”

Sang-hyuk nodded, pressing himself even closer.

Following had been the only thing Sang-hyuk knew and understood, but for the sake of everyone around him, he was going to have to learn how to stand on his own two feet.  


	26. Unprecedented

Sang-hyuk fingered the button of his lab coat as he watched T52 huddled despondently on the bed, his back pressed against the wall with his knees tucked firmly under his chin. While they hadn’t initially planned on having Sang-hyuk in charge of the cyborg, drastic measures eventually brought the two together, Sang-hyuk now waiting patiently as T52 took the time to adjust.

T52 had been brought back the same time they grabbed Hak-yeon, immediately taken to see if anything had been damaged. Of course there had been nothing, but regardless of how long Sang-hyuk had worked for them, there was no trust, and precautions had to be taken. The impressions of Hak-yeon on his memories were left unconcerned, nobody giving the cyborg that had been nothing but faulty a second thought when Hak-yeon survived beautifully. Instead they left him in his room with nothing but a simple command to ‘wait’.  

T52’s health deteriorated rapidly, a pace so fast none of them were able to react quickly enough to stop it. His skin withered faster than they were able to replace it, his body decorated in darkened patches once again, his hair falling out as his face grew shallower with every day that passed. T52’s resets had increased, lasting only mere minutes before resetting so violently that most interns were too terrified to even step into the room. This affected the latter’s speech, T52 unable to speak a full sentence before his body ripped his consciousness away, his mind so scrambled he could barely recognize his own voice. Many of the higher-ups assumed he was doing this purposefully, retaliating, but Joon-myeon believed T52 unable to bear grudges, Won-shik even going so far as to wonder if T52’s usefulness was finally coming to an end.

Sang-hyuk refused to believe that, and had offered to try and talk to him. He knew they were looking for any reason to finally shut him down, to get rid of the one slight on an otherwise productive study, and he knew he had to do everything in his power to stop that. No matter how much he tried to hate T52 for what happened, he could never muster even a hint of apathy when he took in the cowered mess in front of him. He couldn’t let them take him away.

He couldn’t handle losing anyone again.

He gently cleared his throat, tugging his lips into a disarming smile. “Hello, T52.”

T52’s eyes flickered over to him, the first sign he acknowledged him, and Sang-hyuk latched onto that. He kept his movements slow, calculated, as he slowly rolled his chair over to the bed, his eyes never looking away to make sure T52 was okay. T52 made no move one way or the other, and Sang-hyuk pursed his lips. He had been here for almost five minutes and T52 hadn’t reset so far, a surprise in itself, though Sang-hyuk knew better than to get too excited.

T52 had always been unpredictable, and this was nothing different.

“T52…how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while, how’ve you been?” He spoke slowly, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, trying to peek through the latter’s stringy bangs to catch his gaze. He carefully placed his hands on the bed and T52 finally picked his head up, his bangs hanging limply over his eyes. Sang-hyuk was suddenly hit with a wave of revulsion, not realizing how _good_ T52 had looked when with Hak-yeon, and how utterly animalistic he looked when returned to the conditions that had once been considered normal.

“Touch…” T52 scratched out, his eyes unfocused as if trying to figure out who Sang-hyuk was, “touch, please.” When Sang-hyuk reached out to brush his hand, he shook his head furiously. “Do not touch.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. “Then what touch?”

T52’s whole body seized, the onset of a reset, and Sang-hyuk frowned when he noticed the way T52’s breath hitched, his brow furrowed in a way he had never seen before. There was a lucidity in his gaze that spoke volumes, a tightness in his shaking fingers that hinted that he was mentally present despite how his body reacted. Sang-hyuk found himself unable to look away as he waited for the tremors to leave the latter’s body, holding the other’s gaze until T52 finally blinked, not a trace of confusion in his eyes as he stared back.

“Touch, Sang-hyuk. I want touch.”

There was something T52 was trying to tell him, the conviction in his tone and the effort to stay awake through a reset only further proof. “If you don’t want my touch, then what do you want? You have to tell me.”

T52’s hand carefully unclasped itself from the death grip it had held on his knees, the movement silky as he ran his fingers through Sang-hyuk’s hair, the touch as simple as it was gentle. Sang-hyuk sat frozen as T52 stroked his head, each attempt shaky as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing, and he felt his breath sucked away. No one had ever touched T52 so intimately for him to learn such a gesture, not even himself; his eyes watered as he realized where exactly T52 had learned it. “This touch; I want it.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t even try to hide how his voice cracked, his chest hurting so badly he wanted to cry. “D-do…do you know where you learned that?”

T52 pulled his hand back, wrapping it around his knees again. “It is because of me.”

Sang-hyuk blinked, his lips parting as he let out a shaking breath. Did T52 know…? He seemed to remember Hak-yeon to some degree, if the impressions left on his memories weren’t enough, but it was unclear how much he understood. But it filled him with a strange sense of warmth that there was _someone_ , cyborg or otherwise, who was just as deeply affected as he was. He didn’t wait for approval this time as he placed a hand on T52’s elbow, the latter’s eyes snapping up to him, watching him cautiously.

“T52…have they told you? About…about Hak-yeon?”

T52’s body stiffened at the mention of Hak-yeon’s name, shaking through a violent spasm as he fought to stay aware through another reset. He could see the toll it took on him, his breathing becoming more labored and his eyes glossy, and Sang-hyuk wondered sadly how much energy it took for the poor thing to do so. But T52 was proving very quickly how strong he could be, his gaze hardening once the reset had passed.

“Hak-yeon…what happened?”

“He…he lived. He’s alive.”

T52’s eyes scanned over him to take in his expression, his face shifting until it fell on a wide-eyed look of despair, and Sang-hyuk wondered if that was how he had been looking these past few weeks. No wonder Won-shik had been worried. “They have changed him?” When Sang-hyuk nodded, the despair turned to anguish. “He is now like me?”

“They haven’t done anything to him yet. They are waiting to make sure he’s strong enough before starting anything. But don’t worry,” he grabbed T52’s hand, and this time the other did nothing to pull away, “I’ll do everything I can to make sure they can’t touch him. He won’t turn out like you. I won’t let them.” Even though he knew it wasn’t what he wanted, Sang-hyuk couldn’t resist reaching up and running his hands through T52’s hair, ignoring the way T52’s eyes widened.

“I…I’ll see what I can do about letting you see him. He loved you; you deserve to see him too.”

That was the first time T52 smiled since everything started, and Sang-hyuk’s fingers slipped into a gentle caress of his cheek.

\--

And like that, time began to pass again.

While it took some time before Sang-hyuk could look Won-shik in the eye again, he knew the other had only spoken the truth, each word ringing through his muddled brain until they were etched permanently beneath his eyelids. There was nothing that guaranteed Sang-hyuk anything, the very real threat of Hak-yeon or even Hong-bin being taken away suddenly heavy on his shoulders. He had already showed how dangerous he could be with how quickly he spiraled in the short week since Hak-yeon was put through the tests, and he knew they wouldn’t be willing to wait much longer. If he wanted to keep Hak-yeon, he had to change.

There was no time to pick up the pieces, haphazardly gathering the fragments and sticking them wherever they fit. He got rid of his apartment completely, moving permanently into the basement bunks. He couldn’t bear stepping foot into the place that only reminded him of things he couldn’t bear to remember. All the fake confidence he had built over the years was now plastered on his face at all times, never letting the mask fall until he was alone. It worked to some extent, the pitying looks he had always received quickly turning to ones of awe. Self-consciousness and embarrassment no longer had a place in his life, the pieces too jagged and scarred. Hak-yeon only deserved confidence, and that was all he was going to leave room for.

The fact that Won-shik would sometimes glance at him sadly meant nothing.

He only wanted to give Hak-yeon happiness, to make him smile and love in a way he never could have before. Just because they changed him didn’t mean he was still mostly human, and that he was still very much capable of living. He knew the higher-ups were willing to let him do pretty much anything as long as positive results were still being made, so he focused on just making Hak-yeon as happy as he could. And the first thing he had to do was make sure Hak-yeon understood he was absolutely special.

He slapped on the biggest, widest smile he could as he stepped into Hak-yeon’s room, trying his hardest to ignore the stiff way Hak-yeon waited, already trained to sit exactly as Hong-bin did, his eyes unblinking. He had to stay calm, bright; Hak-yeon was smart, and caught onto negative emotions quickly. He didn’t deserve to see Sang-hyuk as anything but. He saw Hak-yeon’s eyes snap down to the plastic bag dangling from his fingers, the motion so rigid and withdrawn, and it took everything in him to keep his smile up.

“Hello there, Y21,” he greeted as he bounded over to the bedside, dropping the bag onto the desk as he grabbed Hak-yeon’s hands. He steadfastly ignored the way his chest clenched at the model number, fighting the urge to clench his fists at how Hak-yeon’s eyes flashed in recognition. Grubby fingers and tainted thoughts had blotted the sun, and Hak-yeon’s muted tones sat before him in a paled version of himself.

But the apathy they had tried to replace Hak-yeon’s personality with did not fade him completely, parts of him peeking through when he moved along to Sang-hyuk’s words, wanting to please without realizing why.

“I have something for you,” Sang-hyuk said hurriedly, distracting himself before his thoughts darkened any further. Happy thoughts, only happy thoughts. He could feel Hak-yeon’s eyes watching him as he grabbed the bag and held it out for him to see, blinking confusedly. A forced laugh escaped Sang-hyuk’s lips. “These are for you.” He could see Hak-yeon stare at him, able to understand his confusion despite the other’s inability to express it, and laughed brokenly as he pulled out a simple t-shirt. He purposefully shoved the many images of Hak-yeon wearing this same t-shirt, sleepy and smiling, to the back of his mind. He would never tell anyone this was Hak-yeon’s favorite, or the one Sang-hyuk loved the most.

They never would’ve saved it if they had known, let alone allow him to give it to Hak-yeon.

“The others aren’t too keen about it, but I feel that you deserve to have something cover you up. Don’t you think so?” He kept his smile in place as he smoothly lifted Hak-yeon’s arms up, hesitating briefly when he saw the way Hak-yeon stared at him, his eyes glossy despite how sharp his gaze was. He knew it was false hope, but there was almost a hint of awareness hiding there, as if Hak-yeon was learning and understanding more than he was able to tell. But Sang-hyuk knew better than to think too deeply, already having suffered through those same thoughts with Hong-bin. No matter how Hong-bin did it, there was no way Hak-yeon would’ve been able to keep his memories.

“There you go,” he announced brightly as he tugged the shirt down over Hak-yeon’s head, his mouth running dry at how the collar hung low to reveal his collarbones, his hair mussed in a way that painfully reminded him of all the times Hak-yeon had sleepily stumbled around the apartment looking exactly like this. He stayed silent as he watched Hak-yeon curiously look down at himself, giving him time before gently reaching out and taking his hands.

“Do you like it?” he asked without thinking, a rush of regret surging through him when he saw the way Hak-yeon only blinked at him. “Ah, sorry. I-”

“I like it.”

Three words; three words that would’ve meant nothing uttered in any other context—but it was those three words that broke him. For that brief moment, with those three words lingering in the air, Hak-yeon returned, his gentle gaze and soft smile the same one he had reserved for the days Sang-hyuk truly needed his warmth. Sang-hyuk felt himself crumbling as tears ran down his cheeks with abandon, smiling genuinely as a laugh tumbled from his lips, his hands moving up to cup Hak-yeon’s cheeks, everything so soft and cold. Hak-yeon had always promised to stay by Sang-hyuk’s side, so firm despite the world continuing to knock them down, and he could see it was true even now. Even after having his memories stolen and his body changed, Hak-yeon still tried to reach out to him, comfort him in a way only he could.

“You don’t deserve to be here,” he whispered, unable to hide his smile as he pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes so he could let his simple mind imagine. “It’s all my fault…I’m so sorry.” _It’s okay,_ he could almost hear, Hak-yeon’s whisper so faint, _I won’t blame you._ He let out a shaky breath before a soft brush jolted his eyes wide open, and he looked up to see Hak-yeon staring at him, his hands carefully placed over Sang-hyuk’s own. Another gentle smile spread across Hak-yeon’s lips, Sang-hyuk’s mouth falling open, words lost—

“I do not understand.”

That snapped Sang-hyuk out of his reverie, suddenly very aware of where he was and what was happening, stiffly yanking his hands away. He tried to keep himself at a distance as he helped Hak-yeon put on the rest of the clothes, though was unable to stay completely removed when Hak-yeon stood before him, awkwardly hanging his hands at his sides as he waited for Sang-hyuk’s reaction. This was his Hak-yeon, and his heart swelled.

_“I promised you I would never leave you, didn’t I? Don’t worry. I’ll always be here.”_

It was those words that pushed him to guide Hak-yeon to the mirror he had put in the room for just this occasion, patience flooding his every pore as Hak-yeon stumbled over his own feet, the latter no longer able to walk on his own. He disregarded the way his hand burned under Hak-yeon’s death grip, focusing only on supporting the other’s back as he lathered him in sweet words, compliments rolling off his tongue with each step. Eventually they were able to reach the mirror, and he could feel his heart break at the absolutely confused look Hak-yeon had at his own reflection.

He took a deep breath as he smiled softly, placing his hands on Hak-yeon’s shoulders. Hak-yeon didn’t seem to notice, his attention entirely focused on their reflection and trying his hardest to discern what he was seeing. “Do you see it?” he asked, finally getting Hak-yeon’s attention as the other’s eyes flickered briefly to him. “Do you know what you’re looking at?”

“There is someone next to you,” Hak-yeon said breathlessly, blinking, and Sang-hyuk felt overwhelming affection burst rush through him as he wrapped his arms around Hak-yeon’s waist, pressing their cheeks together. He could feel Hak-yeon’s body easily bend and shift along to Sang-hyuk’s whims, no longer having a mind of its own, and he reveled in the plushness of the other’s skin, the muscles lax from years of nonuse.

“Yes, there is,” he whispered, meeting Hak-yeon’s gaze in the mirror, “ _you’re_ next to me. The person in the mirror…that’s you.”

He could see something click in Hak-yeon’s mind, the slow realization of self-awareness. He begrudgingly loosened his grasp so Hak-yeon could tentatively reach out and brush his fingers against the mirror, disbelief on his face as he tried to take in everything. Neither Hong-bin nor T52 knew what they looked like, never having been given a chance to realize themselves in a way beyond their status as a cyborg. It wasn’t something that was forbidden, just something easily overlooked, no one having given any thought to letting the cyborgs understand who they were beyond what they could perceive. And as he watched Hak-yeon marvel at his own reflection and come to terms with what he saw, he wondered how the others would react.

It was something they deserved.

 

Only after he made sure Hak-yeon was calm and situated did he finally leave the room, only to stop abruptly at the sight of T52 lingering outside the door. It took him almost a full minute to realize the cyborg was actually standing in front of him, blinking a few times just to make sure. He glanced around hurriedly, catching a few people’s eye and waiting until they scurried out of view before grabbing T52’s hand, jerking him to the wall and hiding him against his front. His heart hammered furiously, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how exactly T52 managed to get all the way here on his own. While there wasn’t much surveillance on T52 anymore, he couldn’t imagine he could walk around the lab freely.

T52 squirmed uncomfortably under his tight grip, and Sang-hyuk forced his grip to loosen, his hand shaking. “T52…did you come here by yourself?” T52’s eyes flickered to Hak-yeon’s door, his expression mirroring Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk sighed softly, his hand hesitating before awkwardly resting on the other’s shoulder. His eyes caught the dark, puckered skin that peeked out from the lab coat T52 somehow managed to find, knowing he’d have to get it replaced soon. “I…it’s too early. I haven’t gotten permission yet. You can’t come here on your own.”

T52’s frown deepened, his eyes now focused solely on the door. “Hak-yeon-”

“You can’t call him that.” The words felt like lead in his mouth, the hypocrisy in demanding T52 to do the very thing Sang-hyuk hated causing his stomach to turn. When he saw T52 stare at him blankly, opening his mouth to voice his confusion, he quickly continued. “Just like how we call you T52 even though you have a name you like, we have to call him Y21. You have to do this, for Hak-yeon.”

T52 didn’t answer for a while, eyes unblinking, and Sang-hyuk was terrified that he was going to reset right there when, “Is he hurting?”

Sang-hyuk shook his head weakly, unable to hide the exhaustion that clung to every pore of his body, sure that T52 could understand. T52 had always been perceptive to even the most minimal of facial changes, knowing how to react despite not knowing what they were. This was true even now, T52’s eyes narrowing as he once again looked to Hak-yeon’s door. “Have they touched him?”

“No…no. He’s fine. He actually is doing better than expected. He’s very smart.”

T52 nodded, looking back to him. “I want to see him.”

Sang-hyuk hesitated again, his breath catching. “I’ll see what I can do. They’re very happy with how he’s progressing, so I’m sure I can put a good word in. I’ll make sure to let you know the moment I do.” There was nothing but trust in T52’s eyes as he allowed Sang-hyuk to quickly lead him back to his room, and Sang-hyuk hated that look more than anything.

Hak-yeon had looked at him in the exact same way. 

\--

He felt a wave of nervousness hit him as he slowly cracked open Hong-bin’s door, his shoulders slumping in relief when he saw the other still plugged in. He let out a sigh as he settled into the chair, taking in the sight of Hong-bin’s seemingly sleeping face, a tentative hand reaching out and stroking his cheek. Since everything with Hak-yeon, Sang-hyuk had withdrawn from everyone, including Hong-bin. He knew Hong-bin had worried about him, trying to help despite the numerous ways Sang-hyuk had deflected behind bright smiles and fake reassurances. It was something Hong-bin had done since revealing how much he remembered, concerned and strong, and Sang-hyuk felt something in his chest stir at the thought.

Sang-hyuk had always kept a distance between him and Hong-bin, his instinctive reaction to run keeping them farther and farther away. The fear of Hong-bin disappearing and leaving him alone, as well as Hak-yeon’s safety, had only added to it, leaving each encounter stilted and professional. Even when Hong-bin pulled him close and Sang-hyuk pretended to melt into his arms, there was a wall, constructed high and tall to keep Sang-hyuk safe. His personal safety had always preceded anything when it came to the lab and his job, and he was sure Hong-bin knew that to a certain extent.

But…as he sat here and stared at Hong-bin’s sleeping face, his thumb tracing along his soft cheekbones and resting against the edge of his lips, he found himself unable to keep that distance. He wasn’t sure what in that moment changed, whether it was the sudden realization that Hong-bin looked so incredibly soft like this, dressed in Sang-hyuk’s loose t-shirt and trimmed slacks, or his desperation for even a hint of warmth, but he found himself unable to move away. In that moment, he realized there was nothing waiting for him at home anymore, nothing tugging at the edges of his mind to warn him to run. The fear that had always guided him, tormented him, suddenly seemed so far away, and for the first time he allowed his heart to lead him.

His hands trailed down to Hong-bin’s waist, taking a small breath before tugging the other back, grunting heavily as he shifted Hong-bin to sit against the wall. With the other still in deep sleep, his body was difficult to maneuver, his limbs stiff and requiring him to crack them into place. But Sang-hyuk took his time, for the first time feeling completely unburdened as he made sure Hong-bin was comfortable before slipping out of his shoes and climbing onto the bed with him. He settled down and chuckled to himself, fixing the loose strands of Hong-bin’s hair before finally tugging the cable out of his chest. He gave a pleased hum as he waited for Hong-bin to wake, laughing childishly at the surprise that flashed in his eyes.

“Hello, Hong-bin,” he greeted, grinning beautifully, and the surprise in Hong-bin’s eyes quickly turned to concern.

“Hello, Sang-hyuk,” he responded automatically, though the concern was still bright in his gaze as he glanced around the room, no doubt having noticed their different positions. Hong-bin did not speak again, instead staying silent as if waiting for Sang-hyuk to explain, and Sang-hyuk realized this has always been their dynamic. Even when it was a drilled habit for the cyborgs to wait until addressed before speaking, Hong-bin never pressed unless he was sure Sang-hyuk was ready. He always waited, was always patient, and Sang-hyuk found himself reaching over and lacing their fingers together.

“Thank you, Hong-bin,” he said sincerely, and he could see he caught the other off-guard, Hong-bin blinking confusedly as his eyes searched Sang-hyuk’s face. When Sang-hyuk did nothing but smile, Hong-bin’s fingers around his tightened.

“I have never disliked your ability to hide your emotions as much as now. I do not understand what you are saying.”

Sang-hyuk chuckled before pulling his hands away, only to instead push Hong-bin’s legs apart, reveling in the way Hong-bin allowed him to move his body without question. He tossed his lab coat to the floor before crawling into Hong-bin’s lap, no longer needing to guide the other as Hong-bin’s arms immediately wrapped around Sang-hyuk’s waist, pulling him close to his chest. Sang-hyuk felt his heart race as Hong-bin’s light breath ghosted along his neck, adrenaline pumping through his veins. A part of him, after years of conditioning, still screamed to run before anyone saw, to hide before there was a chance of being hurt.

Hong-bin seemed to realize something was wrong, his arms pulling him closer while his voice drifted along his ear. “Are you alright, being like this? Will they not be angry with you for being this close to me?”

Sang-hyuk leaned back so his head was tucked under Hong-bin’s chin, turning just slightly so his cheek was pressed against the silky skin of Hong-bin’s neck. He adjusted just enough he could feel the protruding stitching between Hong-bin’s real skin and the fake one, his bottom lip running over the line, and he felt Hong-bin’s body stiffen under the sudden, intimate touch. Sang-hyuk sighed, his eyes dropping to stare at the hint of skin poking out from under Hong-bin’s collar. “It doesn’t matter. They have already taken everything from me. There’s nothing they can do anymore.”

The truth in those words scared him, goosebumps racing across his skin despite how hard he tried to convince himself to believe them. There was always something they could find to blackmail him, now having Hak-yeon right under their thumb, and he was sure they wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Hong-bin as well. Hong-bin didn’t seem to be convinced either.

“You do not mean that. Arrogance has led to the end of many, including your father. You cannot believe that does not affect you.”

Sang-hyuk let out a soft sigh, breathing in the smell of disinfectant that he had long associated with Hong-bin. It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it did the job. “I don’t. I just…I can’t afford to be scared anymore. They’ve been taking advantage of me all this time because they knew it. I have to.”

Hong-bin hummed, his one hand loosening around Sang-hyuk’s waist to take his hand. It was cold, but the clammy texture was a thing of the past. It felt so real, so human, and if Sang-hyuk closed his eyes it was easy to imagine Hong-bin as nothing but. “Have they touched your friend?”

“Not yet. I’m trying my hardest on keeping them away, but I know it’s only a matter of time. He…he doesn’t remember anything and trusts me so completely…I don’t want to hurt him. I really don’t.” He didn’t realize he had started crying until Hong-bin was wiping the tips of his lashes, his touch incredibly gentle, and Sang-hyuk shivered against his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he craved another person’s touch, and even something as stilted as Hong-bin’s attempt was enough to make his heart hurt. He choked out a sob, doing his best to hide everything. It was all he knew how to do.

“He was everything to me, and I was the one who killed him. Even if he’s alive, it’s not him. I’m trying my best, but every time I see him, I feel so guilty. I could barely hold it together when it happened to you. I want to be there for him…I’m just so scared that I won’t be able to.”

Hong-bin didn’t speak for the longest time, just holding his hand and purposefully taking heavy breaths so Sang-hyuk could rock against his chest. It was incredibly soothing, and Sang-hyuk could even feel himself begin to drift off, though he knew better. While he wasn’t sure what the reaction would be once they saw him with Hong-bin, he was certain they’d be furious if he fell asleep. He was startled back to the present when a hand carefully brushed the hair from his eyes. He tilted his head up to see Hong-bin staring down at him, his eyes showcasing everything he was unable to.

“Sang-hyuk, you cannot blame yourself. You were young when you were forced to work with me. You have much experience now, and are capable to take care of your friend.” When Sang-hyuk scrunched his face in disbelief, Hong-bin frowned. “I am trying to comfort you. I cannot tell how you feel when you change your face like that.”

That got a dry laugh out of him. “Sorry. It’s just…I was never even sure I was taking care of you correctly. I just did what I was told and prayed I didn’t get in trouble.” He watched Hong-bin’s brows furrow slightly, mimicking Sang-hyuk, and Sang-hyuk quickly relaxed his face. “I’m not worried about doing the tests, I can do that fine. It’s working with him that’s the problem. Having to call him by his model number instead of his name…it breaks my heart.”

“Your heart cannot break.”

Sang-hyuk laughed genuinely that time, pulling away enough so he could turn in Hong-bin’s lap, their faces only inches from each other. He tapped Hong-bin’s forehead playfully, skimming over the scar that was always hidden under his hair. “It’s just a saying, silly. My heart won’t actually break—it means it makes me very sad.”

“You are sad.”

Sang-hyuk blinked, rocking back and putting a wider distance between them. “Yes.”

“You have been sad for a while.”

“…yes.”

Hong-bin’s eyes dimmed, his frown deepening despite Sang-hyuk’s expression looking nothing alike. “Then all this time, you have lied when you told me you were fine. You were sad even when you smiled.” Sang-hyuk looked down sheepishly, and Hong-bin hummed. “I do not like that you can hide so much. Hiding your emotions has hurt you.”

“I told you I can’t go around showing everyone how I feel. They’d eat me alive-” His words were lost in a high-pitched squeak when Hong-bin’s lips were suddenly pressed against his own, all rational thinking melting away the moment they touched. It was as if he was a child again, heat flushing his cheeks and a heavy heat curling in the pit of his stomach as Hong-bin’s hands carefully raised up to hold onto Sang-hyuk’s shoulders. He eventually closed his eyes, inwardly racking his brains for what he should do. He had never really kissed anyone on the lips and had long since stopped reading Hak-yeon’s cheesy romance novels—he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Should he kiss back? Should he hug him? Take his clothes off? He was sure that happened in one of Hak-yeon’s stupid books, though he wasn’t about to strip naked with cameras everywhere.

But before he could think of a proper response Hong-bin was already pulling away, a wide smile Sang-hyuk had never seen before bright on his lips. Sang-hyuk could only stare for the first few seconds before his mind went into overdrive, mouth dropping open and struggling to find words. “W-what? W-what was _that?_ ”

“A kiss is for when I see someone in a different light, and I want to mark it as something only for myself. You taught me that, do you not remember?”

Sang-hyuk blinked dumbly as he ran through every dumb thing he’s ever mentioned to Hong-bin, not sure when he could have said something as stupid as that. He hadn’t really said much to him in the years they’ve been together, always so careful—his eyes widened. “T-that—that wasn’t what I meant!”

Hong-bin frowned. “You did not correct me before. Is a kiss not a proper gesture to show that I want to help you?” Sang-hyuk hurriedly shook his head, still rattled, and Hong-bin stiffened, his back immediately straightening. “I did not mean to act inappropriately. I cannot do anything to help you; I wanted to reassure you that I will support you. Was a kiss wrong?” 

Sang-hyuk scrambled for something to say, so very flustered yet also touched, in the end awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “It-it’s not that. I—you’re okay. I’m happy you want to help me, really. It’s just, uh, kisses are usually meant for something really, _really_ different. Something I don’t think I can teach you.”

“Is it something I can learn?” Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, shame burning his cheeks, and Hong-bin hummed. “Can I kiss you again?”

Sang-hyuk’s head snapped up. _“What?”_

“It is something emotional, and I want to learn. Unless it hurts you to do so?”

“N-no! That, that’s not—uh, yeah, I guess. Yeah, y-you can, if you want.” Hong-bin’s lip upturned in a half-smile as he placed his hands over Sang-hyuk’s forearms, holding him still as he slowly leaned forward to kiss Sang-hyuk again. Sang-hyuk was prepared this time, his brain ready to handle the sheer amount of _panic,_ and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tentatively opened his lips to kiss back. There was none of the rush from the first time, instead a sweet calm falling over them as time seemed to stop. Neither knew how to properly kiss, their lips staying absolutely still as they awkwardly breathed into each other’s mouths, but it was a moment Sang-hyuk would never want to forget.

As they sat there and tried to convey feelings for very different things with a simple touch of the lips, Sang-hyuk found himself feeling lighter than he ever had in his entire life.

 

He waited until he was in the safety of the basement, curled up in his bed with his back pressed against the wall, before he allowed himself to think of Hong-bin again, his lips tingling. Hong-bin hadn’t done much after they pulled away, only pleading that Sang-hyuk not hide anything from him again and Sang-hyuk too dazed to do much else besides nod. As he pulled his knees to his chest and stared blankly at the empty room shrouded in darkness, he tried to tell himself that the kiss meant nothing and Hong-bin understood none of what a kiss actually meant, but found the attempt to be useless.

For years, he had been convinced to believe the cyborgs were incapable of understanding basic human emotions, little more than robots that happened to once be human. Like Won-shik insisted, it was the easiest way to get through the tests and still be able to look at himself in the mirror at the end of the day—they weren’t human, and never would be.  Even when Hong-bin revealed to still remember him, Sang-hyuk still looked at him like a machine, his soft words and sweet concern just something he learned to use when confronted with a crumbling human. Keeping an emotional distance between them made sense, but as he numbly ran his fingers over his lips, he felt his entire world shatter around him.

Hong-bin had once been human.

T52, Y09, Hak-yeon…they all had.

While it was easy to overlook and brush off the inconsistencies as simple coincidences, there were so many instances of the cyborgs being more than machines. Hong-bin had always shown great interest in learning to express himself, willing to ask questions once comfortable. T52 showed that he was actually incredibly sensitive, understanding all the hurtful words thrown at him yet unable to defend himself. Even Hak-yeon, so newly bestowed with this terrible curse, had glimpses of his old personality shining through, desperate to please and wanting more than anything to see him smile. They all had been human, and they still were.

Sang-hyuk felt tears prick his eyes. He had always prided himself in treating the cyborgs as equals. But as he imagined Hong-bin’s lips on his, he found that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

\--

Sang-hyuk couldn’t resist carefully running his hand through Hak-yeon’s hair as they huddled together on the bed, unable to hide his smile when he saw how wide Hak-yeon’s eyes were as he overdramatically regaled him with the story of Cinderella. He found himself drawn to the sparkling fascination in his eyes, purposefully changing his voice to complement the pictures and biting back laughter when Hak-yeon unknowingly scrunched his face in attempts to match. It was truly fascinating to watch; ever since they met, Hak-yeon had always been so mature for his age, acting far beyond his years. But now, as they sat together and Sang-hyuk had an arm wrapped around him and a blanket secured snugly around his waist, he caught a brief glimpse of the Hak-yeon that never got to be, a curious child that grew up way too fast.

He remembered the many nights Hak-yeon had curled up in bed with him, the nearby lamp being the only source of light as Hak-yeon read fairytales to him. Sang-hyuk had been so young and gullible then, cowering in Hak-yeon’s arms and whining when Hak-yeon only laughed at him. But as he sat here now, Hak-yeon leaning into his side and his fingers buried in the other’s hair, he found the memory calming in a way.

Sang-hyuk had always thought of himself first, be it ignoring the cyborgs’ inherent humanity or Hak-yeon’s sacrifices, preferring to bury himself in his own problems and waiting for someone else to comfort him. But there was no one to comfort him now, yet instead of feeling horror at the prospect, he felt serene. He was finally taking that first step, finally putting Hak-yeon’s happiness first, and he would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face.

He stopped when Hak-yeon carefully grabbed his hand, tugging it close to his chest, and he waited patiently for Hak-yeon to word his question. “Sang-hyuk,” he said, his voice cold and uncertain, “do you feel this way?”

Sang-hyuk looked down to see the picture of Cinderella, her face buried in her hands as she cried amongst the torn shreds of her dress. He hesitated briefly, unsure what Hak-yeon was trying to ask. “Well…not like that, no.”

“You cry.”

Sang-hyuk stared at him openly, eyes wide in disbelief as he looked between the picture and Hak-yeon. The cyborgs, Hak-yeon included, were believed to only understand facial expressions based on what they could see, hence why they were always mimicking the people around them. While Hak-yeon had plenty of chances seeing Sang-hyuk cry, the picture itself was incredibly ambiguous. Cinderella’s emotional state could easily be discerned from the words of the story and basic intuition, though without those things it would be difficult to work out how she felt. For Hak-yeon to figure out she was crying, and then match it to Sang-hyuk, was absolutely remarkable.

He swallowed. “Yes, I can. I can feel it anytime.”

“Why can I not?” Sang-hyuk was once again thrown for a loop when Hak-yeon turned his gaze up to him, his brow furrowed in a way that was in no way similar to Sang-hyuk’s. There was a determination in his stare, a firm set in his downturned lips that once again punched a hole into the facts that had once made up Sang-hyuk’s entire world. Hak-yeon continued, not realizing how much he was affecting him. “I want to feel, but I cannot.”

“Y-you will one day,” Sang-hyuk whispered softly, trailing a shaking hand down Hak-yeon’s cheek, “I’ll make sure of it.” Hak-yeon only had the chance to blink at him before a loud bang came from outside the door, and Sang-hyuk felt his whole body instantly fly into a barely concealed rage. He gently shushed Hak-yeon before immediately heading to the door, his fists shaking as his lips turned down into the nastiest snarl he could make.

He had made it _perfectly_ clear that _no one_ was supposed to come near Hak-yeon’s room unless they confirmed with him first. He had made it his number one rule, one that even Joon-myeon begrudgingly agreed to. He had reluctantly agreed to letting the intern Kim Seok-jin feed Hak-yeon after their sessions, though even then he was always watching to make sure Seok-jin left right after. They _knew_ they couldn’t come here—so who the _fuck_ was banging on the door?

He swung open the door and nearly took Seok-jin out, the latter stumbling back and nearly falling to the floor, though he found he had very little room to care. His gaze was instead immediately drawn to the fallen kit by Seok-jin’s feet—and the large syringe in his hand. He saw red as he reached down and yanked Seok-jin to his feet, slamming him against the wall as hard as he could. He faintly heard the poor boy whimper, fear apparent in his eyes, but he couldn’t focus on that. Not when he knew exactly what the other was trying to do.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“I-I’m, I’m s-sorry, Doctor Han!” Seok-jin stammered, curling in on himself when Sang-hyuk’s fingers tightened around his collar, his hands shaking. “I-I know you said not to come, but I had to-”

“What could be so important that you had to interrupt me?” His eyes shot down to the syringe again, growling even deeper. “Who _fucking_ told you to come here with _that?”_ He spat out the last word, and Seok-jin looked like his soul left his body.

“K-Kim Joon-myeon, sir!” Sang-hyuk’s hands loosened at that, eyes widening in shock, and Seok-jin took that moment to gasp for air, trembling. “H-he called me into his office and said to give this to it, regardless if y-you agreed or not. I didn’t question anything, I-I’m sorry-” Seok-jin shoved Sang-hyuk away as he bolted into Hak-yeon’s room, that goddamn syringe still in his hand, and Sang-hyuk howled as he ran after him. _NO. No no no no no no no no no no no no no—_

“Kim Seok-jin!” he shouted, lunging forward and wrenching Seok-jin away when he saw the other man’s hand reaching out to grab Hak-yeon.

“I-I’m sorry, Sang-hyuk, sir,” Seok-jin said, slipping out of formalities as he trembled, “I was ordered to-”

“Then I order you _not_ to. I already _told_ them I don’t want anyone touching him!”

“They said it didn’t matter. It’s already been progressing a lot; they want to start the tests and-”

 _“No. No one_ is allowed to test on him. I already _told_ them that! They put _me_ in charge and he’s _mine.”_ He then turned to look down at Hak-yeon, only for his eyes to widen in horror when he saw the other attempting to climb out of bed, his limbs tangled in the blankets and a look of pain on his face. He quickly ran over to Hak-yeon’s side, schooling his face into the gentlest he could, helping him back onto the bed and tucking him in. As he watched Hak-yeon stare at him, worry in his eyes and confusion clouding his face, he wanted to break everything in the room and scream to the heavens if only to keep him safe.

“We have to,” Seok-jin tried to reason behind him, his voice slowly regaining confidence as his stutters disappeared. “You know they want to, and they’d be furious if they found out we didn’t do it. We can at least give the serum to shut it down-”

“Stop calling him an ‘it’,” Sang-hyuk whispered, focusing only on Hak-yeon’s small pout to keep from exploding. He thought of all the times he had listened to others being dismissive of the cyborgs, Won-shik, Joon-myeon, hell, even Sung-jae, but never had it infuriated him more than now. Hak-yeon, his friend, his brother, his world—he was not an it, and _never would be._ “He was human, he still _is_ human. He is a _he._ Not an ‘it’. _Don’t call him an it!”_

The room was deathly silent, eventually Seok-jin whispering a soft, “I’m sorry.”

He felt something squirm under him, and he looked up to see Hak-yeon attempting to meet his eye, frowning. “I am not an ‘it’?”

Tears ran down Sang-hyuk’s face as he cupped Hak-yeon’s cheeks, his heart breaking at the innocent question. “No, baby. You’re not an ‘it’. Please don’t think that. Don’t let anyone make you think that.” He leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against Hak-yeon’s, their noses brushing and the latter’s faint breath ghosting across his lips. “Y21, you are not some science experiment, do you understand? You’re precious, so remember that you are not an ‘it’. You are a ‘he’, a ‘him’, a human _being_ , okay?”

“I understand,” Hak-yeon responded, and despite knowing there was no way he could, Sang-hyuk decided to believe his lie. He slowly pulled away, giving Seok-jin a withering glare as he reluctantly allowed the other to step forward, the syringe prepped and ready in his hand. He ignored the pitying glance Seok-jin sent him before putting the needle into Hak-yeon’s arm, and fled out of the room before he could hear Hak-yeon call for him.

 

He felt a sense of déjà vu as he stormed into Joon-myeon’s office, though Joon-myeon didn’t seem the least bit surprised as he casually greeted him with a wave. While Sang-hyuk didn’t dare scream or throw anything to the floor, he stalked up to Joon-myeon’s desk, placing his hands on the surface to brace himself as he breathed out, “What the _fuck_ , Joon-myeon?”

Joon-myeon blinked at the blatant lack of formalities, taking a second to gather his bearings before scoffing out, “Excuse me?”

“I _said,_ what the _fuck?_ Why did you send Seok-jin to start his tests? I explicitly told you no one was supposed to touch him unless they went through me! Why did you go behind my back?” His voice rose with each word, his hatred and frustration seeping into his voice and tainting his vision. That syringe, it was the beginning of the end—it was the start of the tests, amputating parts of the body to replace them with artificial bullshit, ones that would eventually cause problems and have to be repaired or replaced. He remembered how broken Sung-jae had been when it started to Y09, though he would be damned if he let it happen to Hak-yeon.

Joon-myeon let out a disbelieving laugh, discreetly pushing his chair back to try and regain some of his domineering presence. It may have worked at some point, but somewhere in the past few weeks Sang-hyuk had lost all ability to be afraid of this man. Joon-myeon had always used Hak-yeon to keep him in line, but now that he had crossed that line and already destroyed him, there was nothing to threaten him with. Even the threat to take Hak-yeon away didn’t scare him, not after seeing that needle pierce Hak-yeon’s arm.

Joon-myeon pointed a finger at him, continuing to laugh as he scrambled for something to say. “You have guts, kid. I don’t think I’ve had someone dare to yell at me in years. But you should still be careful what you say-”

“Or what? You’re going to threaten Hak-yeon? I hate to break it to you, but you’ve _already done that.”_

Joon-myeon frowned, though he fought hard to stay indifferent. “There are always other ways to keep you in line. There are many tests that we’re waiting to start with Y21, but we’ve been holding off for you. But if you keep acting like an arrogant piece of shit, I can’t guarantee we’ll wait.”

“Don’t try to make it sound like you’re worried about me. You haven’t started because you’re scared of how he’ll react. You don’t give a _fuck_ how it’ll affect me.” Joon-myeon finally dropped his nonchalant façade, glaring openly at him. It was Sang-hyuk’s turn to scoff at him, immensely enjoying being the intimidating one for once as he leaned in closer. “Now, why did you tell Seok-jin to start the test? _Without_ telling me first?”

“You think we didn’t try? Purposefully ignoring our invoices isn’t going to stop us. There’s only so much time we’re willing to wait before we take measures into our own hands.” When Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to protest, curses already on the tip of his tongue, Joon-myeon quickly cut him off. “I already told you, Han Sang-hyuk. Y21 is nothing special. It will go through all the tests the others did. You can’t protect it.”

“He’s not ready-”

“It’s more than ready. It’s already been performing far beyond our expectations, and you know that. Honestly, it probably could have its whole arm replaced and be fine, but here I graciously took you into account and stopped at its hand. Stop being a _child_ and accept that sometimes we have to do things out of our control. Including experimenting on things we’d prefer not to.” Sang-hyuk’s lip threatened to tremble at the passion behind Joon-myeon’s voice, knowing how much truth was laced in them, and dropped his head to hide his quivering shoulders. Yes, he knew at some point Hak-yeon would eventually have to be tested, that his body would eventually be replaced until he was the same as Hong-bin and T52, but he had blissfully pretended it wouldn’t happen until later. How much later he didn’t care, just not any time soon.

To think that one day Hak-yeon would take his hand and there would be nothing under his touch besides metal and fake skin…it made his blood run cold.

Hak-yeon’s fate was his alone, his life and world placed in his hands, and Sang-hyuk felt too unworthy to be given such a thing.

Joon-myeon gave him time to recover as he sat back at his desk, purposefully reorganizing papers and pretending to be busy until Sang-hyuk could finally lift his head again. The other man’s face was carefully blank, revealing nothing as he allowed Sang-hyuk to calm down. When he did speak again, his voice was quiet, his normal mocking tone completely absent. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to ask me? I noticed you volunteered to go see T52, how’d that go?”

Sang-hyuk was thankful for a distraction, falling into the seat as he went back into professional mode, absolutely exhausted. “He was struggling. He can’t recall Hak-yeon by name, but he seems to have some imprints of Hak-yeon’s presence in his actions. He didn’t reset once when I mentioned him.”

Joon-myeon’s eyes widened in surprise. “It didn’t? I’ve been getting reports that’s it’s been resetting an unsettling amount of times; did that not happen to you?”

Sang-hyuk briefly debated over how much to reveal, finally settling with, “He did a couple times, though they were nowhere near constant. I think…I think we should let T52 see Hak-yeon. He reacted well when I talked about him, and was actually lucid enough to ask questions. I think it will help him.” He took a deep breath when he saw the disapproval on Joon-myeon’s face, quickly adding, “I know we always kept the cyborgs away from each other, but I think it’ll be good for the both of them. Hak-yeon is progressing fast, like you said, and T52 is looking for him.”

Joon-myeon hummed, a distant look in his eye. “There’s a reason we always kept X39 and T52 apart, but I don’t think the same reasoning applies for Y21.” Sang-hyuk perked up at the mention of Hong-bin, having always wondered why the two of them had been kept apart, but knew better than to ask for details. “But I can understand your reasoning. It’s similar to how X39 was before we brought you in. Its health didn’t deteriorate like T52’s, but it refused to work with us and made it difficult to get anything from it. I’m sure there won’t be much of a problem getting T52 permission to see Y21, if only once.”

Suddenly Joon-myeon’s gaze hardened as he looked Sang-hyuk straight in the eye. “Not to mention, I’m sure there’ll be some great data we can collect if the two of them start interacting. Especially considering how similar they are to you and X39—you’ve been getting really close with X39 recently, haven’t you?”

Sang-hyuk stiffened, realizing Joon-myeon had seen the clip of him and Hong-bin kissing. While he wasn’t embarrassed or shy of it, he had no idea what the possible reaction would be. It was safe to say no one had ever tried kissing one of the cyborgs before. “I-”

“I’m just warning you to be careful. Nothing will happen now since it’s progressing well, but you better be careful not to cross a line and force us to take drastic measures again. It’s only been recently that X39 has shown any progress, so it won’t be much of a loss to wipe it again. Memories are easy to remove and easy to return, but the same can’t be said for you. This warning is mostly for you.”

Sang-hyuk swallowed, his hands gripping into terrifyingly tight fists. “I understand.” He stood up, ready to leave and run away before there was a chance for anything else to go wrong, when Joon-myeon cleared his throat.

“One more thing—the sponsors have requested to visit.” Sang-hyuk froze, body rigid, and Joon-myeon noticed. “We’ve told them to wait for now, since Hak-yeon is such a special case that we need to monitor closely, but they will visit soon. I wanted to ask for you opinion on what time would be good for him.”

“My opinion?” he asked dumbly.

“You’re the one in charge of Y21, and are going to have to attend the sponsor meetings from now on. So of course you’re going to get a say in when the best time would be.”

Sang-hyuk was honestly thrown at the sudden news, never having thought of the consequences of being Hak-yeon’s primary caretaker. He wasn’t sure how he felt about having to actually meet the sponsors face to face, especially Hak-yeon’s parents, and felt his stomach squirm at the thought. “I-I…I guess we should wait a little longer…just to make sure he doesn’t have any negative reactions to his…new hand.”

Joon-myeon nodded in agreement, humming softly. “That makes sense. I’ll relay that to the others. You can leave now—just make sure to remember who you’re talking to the next time you feel like breaking my door open and yelling in my face.” Joon-myeon was smiling at him, his words sickeningly sweet, but Sang-hyuk knew the intent behind it. He dazedly gave a quick bow before leaving the room, the door barely shutting behind him before his knees gave out from under him.

He had burst into that room with a fire that burned from his chest to the tips of his toes, but now with every bit of that extinguished at the news of the sponsors and the awaiting expectation of Hak-yeon’s test results, he found the only thing still holding him up was that lingering tingle of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long and made you guys wait all this time. This chapter was honestly one of the hardest to write so far, but I'm happy with how the plot's finally starting to move and things will begin revealing themselves! 
> 
> Unfortunately the next chapter will probably take just as long (I'm moving soon, and it'll probably be a bit before I'll have time to write anything), but I'll try not to make the wait too long. Hopefully this longish chapter makes up for it! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and hope you're enjoying the story!~


	27. Unprepared

T52 was given permission to visit Hak-yeon almost immediately, all cameras focused on their interaction the moment he entered the room. Sang-hyuk had hovered almost impossibly close to the poor technician monitoring the controls, taking in every movement and every mouthed word to make sure nothing happened, and while the first couple visits ended with nothing more than Hak-yeon attempting to make conversation, he began to see a change in T52.

T52’s sudden health decline seemed to correct itself, his withering skin once replaced staying just as smooth as when first put on. His hair grew back slowly, the resets that had put such a strain on his body subsiding until happening only once or twice a day, a number even smaller than before he met Hak-yeon. While T52 refused to tell Sang-hyuk any of the things he and Hak-yeon talked about when together, Sang-hyuk was able to see how bright T52’s mood was, a smile that was all his own crossing his lips when he thought no one was looking. It was still too early to say that Hak-yeon was the reason for his improving health, but it was a step in the right direction.

But while he noticed the great change in T52, there was a smaller, more subtle change in Hak-yeon. Something had happened, and instead of staring at him in a mixture of wonder and confusion, Hak-yeon’s eyes were filled with suspicion. His face showed nothing, his expression the same as always, but there was a difference in the way his eyes would watch him, his body more hesitant to follow commands. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, but he soon began to notice how Hak-yeon continued to wilt before him.

While he felt guilty at seeing Hak-yeon so small and helpless, he couldn’t help but feel the growing pressure of Joon-myeon and the sponsors demanding to see their newest cyborg.

Hak-yeon couldn’t stay like this.

“Y21? Y21, look at me. Can you hear me?” He resisted the urge to tap Hak-yeon’s cheek to grab his attention, knowing the latter wouldn’t be able to feel it, and instead waited until Hak-yeon’s eyes eventually looked at him. A part of him panicked at the way Hak-yeon stared, unblinking, and he reached out to grab Hak-yeon’s new hand. He still wasn’t completely used to it, the skin so real yet so fake, but he ignored it all so he could meet Hak-yeon’s wavering eye. “Is something wrong, baby?” He noticed Hak-yeon’s gaze sharpen then, recognizing the pet name. Sang-hyuk would never say how much he missed Hak-yeon calling him that.

“I do not understand.”

Sang-hyuk let out a slow breath as he struggled to word his worries in a way Hak-yeon could understand, the smile he forced threatening to rip his face in half. “You’re thinking about something. Whenever I see you, you’re always thinking. I thought it was cute at first, but recently you’ve seemed so sad. You don’t smile at me anymore, and I’m worried. Did something happen? You know you can tell me, right? I’ll always be here.”

Hak-yeon stared at him for just a second longer before speaking. “When you are not with me, do you also visit Hong-bin and X39?”

Sang-hyuk nearly choked on his spit at the sudden question. He hadn’t known T52 had opened up that much to Hak-yeon, his stomach twisting at the idea of Hak-yeon calling the former ‘Hong-bin’ again. He still had no idea where T52 heard the name, but it made him squirm just as much as the first time. He would have to remind T52 not to repeat the name too often—he knew his Hong-bin knew not to mention his name to other people, but T52 was always unpredictable.

He swallowed when he saw Hak-yeon waiting, watching, and he squirmed. “…yes. I do see T52 and X39, and I see X39 much more than I see you.” He saw Hak-yeon’s eyes narrow, frowning to match his own, and he added hurriedly, “But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. You’re still new; X39’s been here much longer than you and can stand the tests better, so I work with him more. I promise there’s nothing wrong with you.” He pat Hak-yeon’s hand comfortingly, smiling as brightly as he could, and Hak-yeon’s expression fell neutral.

“I am strong. I can do the tests.”

Sang-hyuk immediately yanked his hand back. Flashes of Joon-myeon reminding him of Hak-yeon’s impending tests ran through his mind, and he could feel his body tremble at the memory. Hak-yeon—he didn’t want him to end up like T52 or Hong-bin. He didn’t want him to eventually have his entire body replaced. He didn’t want the only thing keeping him human to be the crumbling brain that they’d have to pump with serums of all kinds to stop from deteriorating. While he was slowly coming around to the realization that Hak-yeon would never be his beautiful friend again, he didn’t want him to end up as the mindless robot everyone expected him to be.

He didn’t realize how deep his voice grew, his hands shaking. “ _No._ I won’t let them do anything to you until I know you’re ready. Don’t ask for something you’re not ready for.”

“But why do you allow Hong-bin and X39 to do them? I want to be ready too.” Sang-hyuk nearly growled as he tried to figure a simple way to explain his reasoning, not used to seeing Hak-yeon so stubborn. Hak-yeon had always bent over backwards to please him; was this what he would’ve been like if Sang-hyuk hadn’t always been a sniveling baby?

“You lie to me,” Hak-yeon continued, his gaze hard, “and tell me I am beautiful. I knew nothing and believed you; but you see X39 and Hong-bin as much as you see me, and you tell them the same words that you say to me. I know I am not beautiful like you or Hong-bin. I appeared to believe your words to make you smile, but I know there is no truth behind them. But even now, you refuse to give me a chance to match them, and allow me to fall behind. I do not understand why you lie to me.”

…lie?

He thought back to all the times Hak-yeon had been acting strangely, wondering how long he’d known about the others and thought such things. While Hong-bin and T52 knew about each other, they had never been interested, so Sang-hyuk hadn’t thought it necessary to tell Hak-yeon. But there was something in Hak-yeon’s words, something that went beyond mere observation, and Sang-hyuk stumbled over himself when he realized what it was.

Was this what Hak-yeon had felt? All those years trapped in their apartment with nothing to look forward to except for the few times Sang-hyuk managed to come home before midnight…had Hak-yeon been jealous? Lonely? Hak-yeon had always reassured him that he was fine, and Sang-hyuk had been naïve and believed him—and now he was seeing the results of his ignorance in full force. How lonely and bitter had Hak-yeon really been for it to come so clearly now, when he shouldn’t even have these feelings anymore? That even with his memories wiped, his inherent insecurity and possessiveness were still able to manifest?

He didn’t wait to gather Hak-yeon in his arms, tucking him under his chin and holding him close. He grabbed Hak-yeon’s hand, noticing the latter’s body flinch at the touch, and his heart broke. “It seems no matter what I do, I’m only destined to hurt you.” He could almost feel Hak-yeon’s confusion radiating off him, and he buried his face into Hak-yeon’s hair, praying it muffled the sound of his sobs.

“I promise that nothing I’ve said is a lie. I would never lie to you. You are beautiful, you’re so, _so_ beautiful, and I wish I could’ve made you believe that even before. You deserved to have the world bow at your feet. You still do.”

“But X39-”

“X39 is very special to me too, in a way that no one else can be. But that doesn’t make you any less special, or any less remarkable. Don’t look down on yourself just because you are different. Please don’t say anything like that again. _Please_.” As he felt Hak-yeon carefully squeeze his hand back, the only thing he could do, Sang-hyuk felt himself cry pathetically, basking in the touch.

He was never more thankful for T52 than then—Hak-yeon deserved someone that cherished him with everything they had, and no matter how much he wanted it, Sang-hyuk could never be that person.

 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when he felt a pair of hands grab him the moment he stepped out of Hak-yeon’s room, but he couldn’t help the small yelp when his back slammed against the wall, the hands gripping his collar digging painfully into his skin. He blinked past the stars to see T52 glaring at him, and he would admit now that he was surprised. The cyborgs had never displayed any trace of aggression, or any extreme emotion for that matter, and it was honestly a thought that had never crossed their minds.

But right now, he wouldn’t lie that the current situation terrified him, his heart hammering fearfully. T52 was made up almost entirely of metal and hardened plastic—there would be nothing Sang-hyuk could do if the other wanted to hurt him.

“T-T52-”

“You said that you would not let them touch him _.”_

“What-?”

“You touched him. You changed his hand and made him like me. You said you would not let them touch him.” Despite the anger in his eyes, T52’s voice was chillingly calm, as if he was still sitting in his room talking about his day. When Sang-hyuk did nothing but whimper, T52’s hands dug deeper into his chest, bruises already forming under the weight of his knuckles. “You walked in and reassured him that it was necessary, did you not? You promised him that you were powerless, but you would not let them do it again, did you not?” Sang-hyuk found his voice lost, unable to deny anything. T52’s hands slowly loosened, the anger fading away and allowing his face to fall blank once again. “That is what they always told me.”

Sang-hyuk paled. “That’s not it, T52, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t want this, I didn’t want anyone touching him.” When T52 didn’t move, his gaze unwavering, Sang-hyuk continued, “I fought hard to keep him safe, but you…you know better than anyone that I couldn’t do it forever. No matter how hard I try, they were going to start. You know that.” It was there, a flash in T52’s eyes that hinted an understanding the latter probably didn’t even realize, and Sang-hyuk gently placed his hands over T52’s. “That’s why he needs you. I can’t be when I’m the one that hurts him. _You_ have to be. You can do that, can’t you?”

T52 finally blinked, taking a second before replying firmly, “Yes.”

Sang-hyuk smiled bitterly, easily pushing T52’s fingers apart so he could slide his own between them, the touch soft and revealing and absolutely ripping his heart in two. He nodded, tears he refused to spill wetting his lashes as he passed on his love into the awaiting hands of the man before him. Not a cyborg, not a stranger, but a man he knew would protect Hak-yeon with all the love and strength he deserved.

T52 had always been unpredictable, but it was only after meeting Hak-yeon that Sang-hyuk finally understood why.

\--

“Your appearance is better today.” Sang-hyuk looked up from Hong-bin’s file report to see the latter watching him, the smile on his face a stark contrast to the rigid way he held himself. Sang-hyuk found himself returning the smile, throwing the report somewhere on the desk as he wheeled himself closer, holding his hand out and letting Hong-bin reach out to connect their fingers. Hong-bin’s smile widened.

While neither of them openly talked about what happened that day, Sang-hyuk could feel the walls between them slowly begin to crumble. It took a great deal of conscious effort to allow Hong-bin to probe feelings he had long forgotten, each attempt a great fumble between the two as they learned where the lines were drawn. Hong-bin would listen intently as Sang-hyuk described his sessions with Hak-yeon, asking questions and pulling back the moment Sang-hyuk struggled. Sang-hyuk in turn would allow Hong-bin time to explore, learning the true extents of his touch, both platonic and intimate.

The changes that followed after, both in Hong-bin’s test results and overall demeanor, were enough—Hong-bin looked up to meet Sang-hyuk’s eye as he gently squeezed his hand, his fingers soft. “Your face is still drawn, but your eyes have begun to shine again.”

“You know, even for a supposed cyborg, you always manage to speak in the weirdest way possible. What is that even supposed to mean?”

Hong-bin blinked at the chuckles that slipped through Sang-hyuk’s voice, slowly widening his smile in a mirror image of Sang-hyuk’s own. “I speak in the way I was taught. I only want to tell you that you appear happier.”

“Then just say I look happy. Speaking in riddles is just confusing.”

“I do not speak in riddles.” Hong-bin’s smile was gone, his attention back to their hands and the patterns his fingers drew into his palms. “You are the one who speaks in riddles. Your quick speak and colloquialisms; I cannot understand them. I speak in a way that I can understand.” Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to argue but Hong-bin cut him off with a quick press to his inner thigh. Sang-hyuk’s mouth ran dry. “There are many things I want to learn first. I would much rather learn how to help you and make you smile before sounding less like a machine.”

Sang-hyuk found his fingers curling at the unintended warmth those words sent through his body, watching Hong-bin’s curious hands that continued to stroke his thighs. The lingering tingle that followed each brush sent confusing signals to his brain, unsure what they meant, and he felt his body shiver in response. Hong-bin didn’t seem to notice.

“I hurt you here—before. Do you remember?” His hands trailed up to Sang-hyuk’s waist, his fingers tracing circles as he reveled in the silk. Hong-bin loved the texture of silk over anything else they tried, and Sang-hyuk made sure to always wear it when he visited. “I have always regretted doing so.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You weren’t able to touch before.”

“But that does not excuse the action. You were in pain.” Hong-bin hummed softly as his hands began to trail low again, though this time Sang-hyuk was quick to stop him. Hong-bin looked up expectantly, waiting, and Sang-hyuk faltered.

“I…” Unsure what to say, he eventually stuttered out, “the sponsors are visiting tomorrow.”

Hong-bin didn’t seem fazed by the news, pulling his hands back as they rested instinctively over his knees. “That does not seem surprising. They have not visited in some time.”

“They…we’ve been keeping them away in case anything happened to Hak-yeon. But now that…” his voice wavered, Hong-bin quick to take his hand, and Sang-hyuk felt his breath catch at how comforting that was, “…now that his body has fully adapted to his new hand, they are demanding to see him. I’m scared they’re going to want more. I’ve already seen what happens with you…I don’t want to do that again.”

“Sang-hyuk, I have told you that you were young before-”

“That doesn’t mean what I felt wasn’t real. I worked for six years thinking I broke you. I don’t know what you did, but there’s no way Hak-yeon managed to keep his memories.” Hong-bin watched him emotionlessly, his brows drawn and lips tight, and Sang-hyuk yanked his hand away. “After seeing how much you’ve changed, I already know they’re going to demand more. I know you can handle it; you’re strong and I trust you. But Hak-yeon can’t.”

“That is the nature of this study. You have to push the boundaries and stay ahead so you can catch them before they fall.”

“I know that, but Hak-yeon is different. It’s all my fault he’s here, and if he dies…that will be my fault alone.”

“That is why I told you to let me help you. I cannot do the tests for you or lighten their expectations for your friend, but I can support you. You need to allow me to do that.”

Sang-hyuk stared at Hong-bin for the longest time, suppressing the urge to cry as he let out long, shaking breaths, finally dropping his head with a sad sigh. He wordlessly leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against Hong-bin’s firm shoulder, his breath ghosting across the other’s neck. He felt the latter shudder beneath him. “Thank you, Hong-bin.”

“I will always be here for you.”

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

Won-shik was waiting for him the moment he stepped out of his office, the guilty look on the other’s face doing nothing to help Sang-hyuk’s already frayed nerves. It hadn’t been long since he received the notice that the sponsors would be visiting today, and no amount of distractions could stop the growing dread in the pit of his stomach. He hid all the anxiety behind a well-constructed mask, one that did little from the way Won-shik’s guilty look faded to one of concern. The other thankfully didn’t say anything as they headed to the elevator, the two of them expected to greet the sponsors when they arrived.

They fell into the well-worn couches of the lobby, the innocuous elevator doors humming along as they went throughout the building in a constant rhythm. He could feel the couch crinkle as Won-shik leaned his head back, crossing his arms casually when the latter sighed loudly.

“You ready?” Won-shik finally muttered out, eyes closed as he turned his face up to the ceiling. Sang-hyuk didn’t answer right away, instead staring ahead at a couple of people hanging around the coffee machine, no one attempting to make conversation as they drank in complete silence. He thought of the many times he had hovered around that table, wanting to be like everyone else but too afraid to taste, uncomfortably loitering around until a loud roar broke him out of it, Sung-jae cackling behind him. The memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Won-shik continued, scratching absently at his neck. “I know I’m not. Y09’s been giving me all kinds of problems recently…pretty sure they’re going to rip me a new asshole.” Sang-hyuk glanced at him questioningly and frowned when he noticed the way Won-shik’s lips tugged down despite smiling, his knuckles white and body tense. He had never seen Won-shik that way before, the other always seeming so confident and relaxed, and found himself shaken at the idea.

Won-shik rolled his head over to look at Sang-hyuk, his expression languid and smile lazy. The sight had Sang-hyuk tucking his shaking fists under his armpits, biting the inside of his cheek. “What about you? You ready?” Sang-hyuk only shrugged, and Won-shik quickly sat up. “Hyuk?”

Sang-hyuk glanced at him briefly before turning back to the coffee machine, face blank and stomach churning painfully. “Yeah? What do you want?”

Won-shik pursed his lips. “I just wanted to know-”

“What do you expect me to say? No? I don’t think it really matters if I’m ready or not.” He could see Won-shik open his mouth to argue and hurriedly continued before the other had a chance to speak. “The sponsors are going to force their opinions on me whether I like it or not, so what’s the point of getting nervous?” He refused to mention how his stomach was so twisted at this point he was near puking up the small breakfast he managed to eat. 

“Hyuk…” Won-shik’s voice trailed off, long enough Sang-hyuk turned questioningly at him, and he could see the latter wince. “It…it’s okay to be nervous. You don’t need to hide.” Sang-hyuk scoffed, and Won-shik’s frown deepened. “Hyuk-”

“Stop, Won-shik.”

“Hyuk, just listen-”

“ _Don’t.”_ Won-shik’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes imploring, but Sang-hyuk ignored it all. “Don’t pretend like you and everyone else haven’t spent the past six years turning me into what I am today. You can go around now and tell me all about how much you care, but all I remember is being told how even a glimpse of fear was weakness. Now that I’ve finally listened and stopped giving a shit, don’t go and try acting all sympathetic. I don’t care.”

Won-shik stared at him silently, lips drawn and his eyes so _sad,_ and it took all Sang-hyuk had not to apologize. It didn’t matter how nice or understanding Won-shik pretended to be, he would throw it all away in a heartbeat. Won-shik had been the one to kill his parents, and had been the one to help turn Hak-yeon. In the end, Won-shik would always follow, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t trust him.

He couldn’t trust anyone.

Won-shik finally settled back against the couch, his movements much slower as if afraid to upset Sang-hyuk. The atmosphere was tense, the others by the coffee machine having run off, and Sang-hyuk felt the greatest urge to run home and bury himself in Hak-yeon’s arms until the whole world felt right again. Except there was no Hak-yeon at home. He chewed on his thumbnail instead, his teeth occasionally catching on skin, and the small rivets of pain helped calm him somewhat.

Won-shik eventually cleared his throat when the silence became too much, carefully glancing at Sang-hyuk until the latter finally pulled his thumb from his teeth and looked at him. Time ticked by slowly. “Hyuk…I’m sorry.” Sang-hyuk said nothing as he turned his gaze back to the wall, chewing his nail again, and Won-shik sighed softly. “I know you’re ignoring me and hating everyone, and rightfully so. It’s just, it hurts me to see it. You were always so painfully innocent, and I guess a part of me wanted you to stay that way.”

“For what?” Sang-hyuk cut in briskly, stubbornly keeping his gaze forced ahead while his teeth dug in deeper. “Did it amuse you to see me pissing myself every day, as you always so lovingly put it?”

“No. All of us, Joon-myeon, Jong-dae, me, hell, even Sung-jae—we all knew what was going on before we were brought here; we’d all been exposed to it in some way or another. But you…you were so _innocent_. You didn’t know anything and it…it was… _nice._ ” Sang-hyuk slowly pulled his thumb away to stare at Won-shik, taking in the other’s forlorn expression.

“None of us really knew what to do with you. We were so used to fear and hatred and _violence_ , and you were just the complete opposite of that. You looked at everything with this, this _awe,_ and asked all these questions about things we’d already forgotten about. We didn’t think about the cyborgs’ thoughts or feelings because we’d convinced ourselves they didn’t have any, and there was you, standing there and feeling sorry for them and asking why they didn’t have clothes. Or why they looked sad. Most of us…we didn’t know how to handle that.”

“No shit.”

“I mean it, Hyuk. I…it took me a long time to figure you out, and even longer to figure out how to help you. We all tried our best in our own way, mostly…mostly because we didn’t want you to change.” The elevator let out a loud _ding_ as the numbers started to head for their floor, and Won-shik clapped a gentle hand on Sang-hyuk’s knee before standing up. “I understand if you’re angry, but just know that I want what’s best for you.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t have a chance to respond before he was scrambling to his feet, fixing his shirt just in time as the doors slid open to reveal the sponsors. His hands slipped away from his pants, Won-shik’s obnoxiously pleasant greeting falling on deaf ears as Sang-hyuk’s eyes instinctively ran over their faces. They were still the same, emotionless and stiff; Hak-yeon’s parents catching his eye first, along with some others he had seen throughout the years, only to notice a new face, someone hiding in the back, and Sang-hyuk looked a little closer only to—he froze, his hand instinctively clasping around Won-shik’s wrist.

Won-shik stopped mid-sentence, the sponsors frowning at the interruption, though to Sang-hyuk’s surprise Won-shik ignored them to instead give Sang-hyuk his full attention. He looked down to his hand and then to whatever Sang-hyuk was staring at, and his eyes widened. But Won-shik was much better at recovering than Sang-hyuk, and he hid his surprise behind a well-placed cough, turning to lead the sponsors away with a forced smile and energetic hand wave. But Sang-hyuk stayed frozen, eyes unable to look away from the sight of _Jae-hwan_ following the group, dressed in a fitted suit and hair styled so differently from the lazy way he always appeared at the bar. It took a loud cough from Won-shik to rip Sang-hyuk from his stupor, and even then he followed at a safe distance away.

He completely ignored the few times Jae-hwan tried to get his attention.

Joon-myeon met up with them, his smile already up and ready by the time the sponsors saw him. “Hello,” he greeted brightly, his tone so fake and pitched Sang-hyuk wanted to run and hide, “I’m sorry we’ve had to put off the meeting until now, I know you’re all very interested in our newest model. I am happy to announce that all of our subjects are doing extremely well, and are ready for you.” His eyes scanned the group only to land on Jae-hwan, his teeth flashing. “And I see that Lee Jae-hwan has come as well! Are you here with your father?”

Sang-hyuk bit his lip as he watched Jae-hwan bow respectfully, the man standing by him beaming with pride.

Was that what a father was supposed to look like?

“Yes,” Jae-hwan said, his voice so much quieter now that he wasn’t screaming over the pounding base of the club, “I’m new, so please take care of me.”

“Of course,” Joon-myeon reassured as Jae-hwan stood back up, his father patting his back, and Sang-hyuk had to take a deep, steadying breath. This…he couldn’t understand. This wasn’t right. Won-shik moved to the back once Joon-myeon had fully taken over, stepping to Sang-hyuk’s side and grabbing his hand. Sang-hyuk turned his head, frowning when Won-shik locked their fingers together, and found Won-shik staring at him in a mirror image of his own confusion and heartbreak.

Neither of them had known.

They both followed silently as they all went up to the third floor, the wide expanse of unused offices greeting them, lights flickering to life as they headed to the back room. Joon-myeon was still talking, the sponsors all listening intently, but Sang-hyuk could honestly hear none of it, his eyes firmly locked on the back of Jae-hwan’s head. The other hadn’t looked back at either him or Won-shik once, his focus entirely on Joon-myeon, and Sang-hyuk couldn’t understand why his chest tightened.

“You can take a seat here,” Joon-myeon’s voice cutting through his thoughts as he opened the door to the demonstration room. “Our men are readying the cyborgs for you, so take your time and get comfortable. Doctor Kim Won-shik and Han Sang-hyuk will be joining us today, so in the meantime you can ask them any questions you may have while we are preparing.” The sponsors only mumbled in response as they took their seats, an extra chair now placed to the side, and Won-shik and Sang-hyuk moved to stand in the back.

But Jae-hwan had other ideas.

“Won-shik! Sang-hyuk!” Both stiffened when Jae-hwan playfully hissed their names, waving his hand excitedly, though neither made a move to return the gesture. Sang-hyuk could see Jae-hwan’s smile falter, sending his confused father an awkward smile before silently walking towards them. A couple of the other sponsors watched them out of the corner of their eyes, taking in the sight of the new young man attempting to approach those perceived to be beneath them, and it seemed Jae-hwan had caught on somewhat to the tense atmosphere, keeping his head low as he hurriedly crossed the room. Sang-hyuk caught sight of the familiar grin when Jae-hwan smiled up at them through his bangs, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides as he shifted on his feet excitedly.

“Hi!” he whispered, his sparkling eyes dimming when neither of them smiled back, both standing politely still, and he tugged self-consciously at his tie. “Bet you guys were pretty surprised to see me, huh? I didn’t think I’d see you so soon, I was hoping to make a big entrance or something.”

Sang-hyuk broke first. “You…” He dipped his head when Hak-yeon’s father turned his head to stare at him, keeping his eyes locked on their shoes. He couldn’t dare look Jae-hwan in the eye. Not here. Not when he was a sponsor. Above them. A _sponsor._ “You knew?”

He could hear Jae-hwan hum, shifting again, and Sang-hyuk was acutely aware of Won-shik’s increasingly heavy breathing. “I…uh, yeah. I guess you could say that. I always kinda knew what you guys were doing here, but I never really cared until my dad wanted me to join him. He always talked about you, Hyukkie.” Sang-hyuk felt sickened at the sudden use of the nickname, swallowing thickly to try and hide the shiver that ran down his spine. Jae-hwan’s voice was light, as if talking about the weather, the same way all the sponsors would speak while determining their fate.

“Then…” Won-shik discreetly nudged Sang-hyuk’s side, trying to get him to quiet, “the bar…?”

“Oh that…” Jae-hwan chuckled softly, glancing back at his father playfully, “my dad actually doesn’t know about that, so let’s keep it a secret.” A secret. A joke. A lie. Everything was a lie. Sang-hyuk wanted to vomit. “I originally took the job to try and meet some of you guys, kinda like meeting the workers to see what it’s like. See from your perspective and everything. I was super excited when I met you, Hyuk, since my dad always talked about you, though I never expected you to be so cranky.”

Jae-hwan was joking, just like always, but now it made Sang-hyuk’s skin crawl. Had Jae-hwan known the whole time? When Sung-jae had first gone to that club, clueless and hurting, had Jae-hwan approached him, knowing exactly who he was? Had he purposefully given Sung-jae more than he could handle just so he could see Sang-hyuk? Had Sung-jae…could Sung-jae have been saved if Sang-hyuk had just stopped him, kept him from running to that bar where Jae-hwan was waiting?

_“I’m always scared. I’m scared to see the volunteers walk in my room. I’m afraid if I see them too much, they’ll follow me forever. I kill them, you know? I’m the one that gives the test, and I’m the one that takes their life away.”_

Won-shik seemed to catch onto Sang-hyuk’s spiraling, disregarding their place and everyone’s eyes as he carefully put a hand on Sang-hyuk’s elbow. Sang-hyuk’s breath hitched, grateful for the reassurance, and he managed to exhale without choking.

“So that was why…” Sang-hyuk let a sad smile cross his lips as he let out a heartless chuckle, “that’s why you always tended me. I thought…” _I thought you cared about me._

Jae-hwan seemed to catch onto something, letting out a quick gasp as he waved his hands in surrender. “Oh, no! Nothing like that! I just wanted to meet you because of how great you sounded. I didn’t want to do anything bad or anything.”

_“Doctor Kim cried and begged until he died, pleading for me not to do it. I didn’t want to, but…I have my mom at home. I have to take care of her.”_

Sang-hyuk just shook his head, his head pounding as he tried to focus on Won-shik’s firm grip, his whole world feeling as if it was pulsating furiously against his skull. Nothing bad—Jae-hwan would never understand how terrifying it was for them, to live their lives knowing they were replaceable. Where they and their families could be erased for a simple mistake. Jae-hwan would never know, would be kept happily in the dark while the hidden deeds were swept away until only the pretty product was laid out in front of him.

Jae-hwan reached out and put a hand on Sang-hyuk’s arm, fingers dangerously close to his own, and Sang-hyuk nearly recoiled from the intimacy. “Hey, I really didn’t mean anything bad. I wanted to get to know you, so I could get a better idea of what you do and where the project was without making you uncomfortable-”

“You mean where you could get me with my guard down?”

He finally looked up to see Jae-hwan’s mouth drop open, eyes wide in shock, and he scoffed at himself for feeling guilty.

_“I…I’m scared every day. I’m scared that one day I’ll make a stupid mistake and they’ll kill me off, just like that. Kill me and replace me like it was nothing. They don’t care about me, about any of us. We’re just tools, pawns that are worthless once they’ve fulfilled their use.”_

“Hyuk…”

“You’re a sponsor’s son. You wouldn’t be able to understand our perspective.”

“Hyuk, I-”

“Jae-hwan,” Won-shik cut in, voice low and full of warning, “I think it’s time you sit down. The demonstration should be starting soon.” There was no room in his voice for argument, Jae-hwan’s face crumpling upon realizing neither of them were listening, and he slowly pulled his hand away.

“Is there something wrong?” They all looked up to see Jae-hwan’s father approaching them, the drawn lines on the older man’s face darkening as his gaze fell upon his son’s saddened expression. He immediately placed a comforting hand on Jae-hwan’s back as he turned to Won-shik and Sang-hyuk, his frown pressed as he looked the two of them over in one discerning sweep. “Did they say anything to you?”

“N-no,” Jae-hwan said quickly, laughing it off with a big smile. He was always so quick to smile; Sang-hyuk wondered how many of them were real. “I just wanted to say hi, but you’re right, they’re kinda scary.”

The man sighed as he began to guide Jae-hwan back to their seats. “I told you not to try, Jae-hwan. These people are cold and only here to do their job. They have no interest in mingling or trying to get to know you.” Jae-hwan glanced at them over his shoulder, frowning at his father’s words, though he made no move to defend them. There was a small uncertainty in his brow, his lower lip caught in his teeth, but that was it, in the end nodding to his father’s advice and allowing himself to be seated.

It was only when all their eyes were turned away that Sang-hyuk let out the breath he’d been holding, nearly collapsing into Won-shik’s side. Won-shik grunted as he hurriedly held him up, moving closer to keep him steady. Neither of them said a word as they leaned against each other for support, the shock and realization that life was never fucking simple slapping them back to stark reality.

Sang-hyuk wasn’t sure how many more times he could be reminded before he finally broke.

“Okay,” Joon-myeon’s voice suddenly cut in, everyone turning their heads to see him close the door with a brilliantly false smile, a stack of folders in his hand. He wasted no time handing them out, making sure he had their attention. “Before we start, I want to give a short overview of the demonstration and the updates we’ve implemented since your last visit. It might be a little confusing for our newest face,” he sent Jae-hwan a dazzling smile, “but if there any questions, don’t hesitate to stop me.” He turned his head and the smile disappeared immediately, giving both Won-shik and Sang-hyuk a look of pure exasperation as he handed them each a folder.

“We now have four living models,” Joon-myeon continued, signaling them to open to the first page. Sang-hyuk followed along, his eyes sweeping over the brief summaries for each of the cyborgs. There were no pictures, his eyes pausing over Hak-yeon’s model number. “I know some of you were concerned about being informed so late, but Y21 had many problems in the beginning and we were hesitant to make any announcements before it was stable. But rest assured, all of our models are in good condition now.”

“I see you’ve already started replacements,” one woman mumbled offhandedly, glancing over the paper with a look of indifference. “You’ve mentioned before that going too fast can be problematic; are there no risks starting so soon?” Her gaze was sharp as her eyes flicked up to Joon-myeon, and that was the first time Sang-hyuk had ever seen the other man stumble over his words.

“Yes, well, we’ve conducted many tests to make sure of both Y21’s limits and adaptability to the, to the replacements. Once we were able to work out the kinks, we found Y21 has an incredibly high adaptability rate, and has already adjusted well to the new hand.” The woman hummed indifferently, and Sang-hyuk could see a small crack in Joon-myeon’s smile. “All of our subjects are heavily monitored, and every change is documented immediately. We never go ahead until we are sure they are capable of handling it.”

Sang-hyuk’s grip on his folder tightened, hands shaking. Lies—Hak-yeon hadn’t been ready in the slightest.

Won-shik carefully slapped his side without ever looking away from Joon-myeon—a warning. Sang-hyuk reluctantly schooled his expression, looking down and hiding before anyone could see him.

“Actually,” they all looked up to see Jae-hwan’s father clear his throat, Jae-hwan’s eyes wide and trusting as he stared at him in admiration, “I noticed there’s a small note here saying that you’re letting T52 and Y21 meet each other? When did that happen?” A flutter of papers as everyone tried to find the note, Sang-hyuk’s heart pounding against his chest. Images of Hak-yeon sitting in T52’s lap, T52 cradling him and running his hands through Hak-yeon’s hair, the two lost in their own world; would the sponsors be able to understand that?

_There’s a reason why we always kept X39 and T52 apart._

Would they take that away?

“Ah, yes,” Joon-myeon coughed, pulling the attention back to himself, still smiling, “that has been a very recent change. Our newest addition to the team, Han Sang-hyuk, as some of you may remember,” Sang-hyuk blinked when Joon-myeon suddenly waved his hand towards him, the whole room turning to stare at him, “was the one to suggest the idea. There have been some interesting results, but we’ll wait until the demonstration is over before going into more detail.” Sang-hyuk felt as if the sponsors were stripping him down with their gaze, some eyes raking longer than others, and it took everything in him to stand still. He noticed Jae-hwan staring as well, a hint of a grin on his lips, and he hurriedly looked away.

“So, let’s begin.”

Before anyone had a chance to react, the lights dimmed until only a soft glow illuminated their faces, at the same time a large overhead light flickering on to bring attention to a single chair placed opposite of them. Sang-hyuk’s breath stopped, his grip on his folder laxing as the door behind Joon-myeon creaked open, the room falling deathly silent as the sound of muffled shuffling trickled out. And then, with little introduction or preparation, T52 was brought in, the man by his side nearly dragging him as his feet caught against the ridges in the floor.

Sang-hyuk fought the urge to intervene when he watched the way T52 was dropped into the chair, not a second thought given when they all saw the way his head lolled back. He was clothed, _thank god,_ a loose white outfit that did its very best to hide the few dark patches that still blotted his skin. The overhead light combined with the dimmed glow of the room only highlighted the confusion that masked his eyes, his expression empty as the drugs they filled him with left him barely conscious.

Joon-myeon handed his folder to the man before making his way to T52’s side, a hand reaching over to run his fingers through the latter’s hair. T52 instinctively leaned into the touch, his lashes fluttering and lips parting. “T52 had some late reactions to the skin set we developed at the last visit, though with the newest update it has been reacting well. It is very sensitive, and can recognize a touch as simple as a brush.” To demonstrate this, Joon-myeon lightly brushed his fingers across T52’s cheek, and Sang-hyuk felt his stomach twist at the deepened moan that escaped T52’s lips.

A couple of the women smirked at the noise; Jae-hwan shifted uncomfortably.

Hak-yeon’s parents didn’t move.

Joon-myeon waited a couple seconds before a slight frown crossed his face, looking over the room briefly. “You are welcome to come and take a closer look.” When no one made a move, some even looking bored, Joon-myeon added quickly, “T52 has also had fewer resets, and it’s been noted that-”

“Yes, but for how long?” one man asked, his sharp voice cutting. “I really don’t see the point of keeping this model any longer; there are already two new models. With all the problems that seem to come from this one, is there a reason you’re keeping it?” Sang-hyuk stiffened when he saw a hint of T52’s darkened skin peek out from his collar, and breathed a soft sigh of relief when Joon-myeon quickly pushed his head down.

“I can understand your issue with the model—it’s outdated and full of problems. But there are some benefits. With the addition of newer models in such a short time, there has been little time to study them and understand what made them successful, as well as figuring out the limits the human body is capable of. Each subject has a different threshold to what they can endure, and as such T52 has an extremely low ability to adapt and thrive.” Joon-myeon’s hand grabbed a handful of T52’s hair, jerking his head up so he was staring at the sponsors directly, cupping his other hand under his chin as if putting him on display.

“But we can use it to study, to learn what precautions to take should the same reactions occur in the others. Until Y09 and Y21 are more stable, we find it best to keep T52 for safety measure.”

The man didn’t look completely convinced, though he leaned back in surrender. Joon-myeon briefly let his annoyance show on his face as he pursed his lips, waving his hand at the man behind him to take T52 away. Sang-hyuk stole a brief glance at Won-shik to see the other zoning out, seemingly unaffected at the rough way they yanked T52 out of his seat and out the door. He then glanced over at Jae-hwan and his father, the former leaning down as his father whispered into his ear, and Sang-hyuk had to take a deep breath to keep himself from doing anything irrational.

He wasn’t sure he would be able to last through these demonstrations; he really hoped he wouldn’t have to come to each one.

Hong-bin was brought in next, and the response was a complete opposite to T52. Joon-myeon wasn’t even able to finish the overview of Hong-bin’s progress before the sponsors were out of their seats, their hands running over his arms and face, grinning approvingly at the small moans that escaped his small lips. One was testing the softness of his hair while another lifted his shirt to check for dark spots, one man grabbing his arm and turning it this way and that. Even Jae-hwan had joined in, his hands placed tentatively on Hong-bin’s cheeks as he listened to his father’s instructions, his thumbs crudely pulling at the skin.

Sang-hyuk seemed to be the only one who noticed the way Hong-bin’s lips were pulled down as they pushed and prodded at him, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Whatever they filled him with beforehand did a good enough job to keep him submissive and willing, though he was all too aware of how Hong-bin glared at the hands, attempting to tilt his head away only to fall into the hands of another waiting. He thought of Hong-bin’s fingers exploring Sang-hyuk’s body, curious and trusting. Here that trust was exploited, ruined and dirtied as they took it all.

Joon-myeon seemed pleased with the response, grinning from ear to ear. “X39 has been doing exceptionally well in the past couple months. It has shown to react positively to touch, as well as initiating touch on its own. It’s still in the learning stage of recognizing textures and temperature, but the results are very positive. Its facial recognition has also improved dramatically, and its ability to mimic and reciprocate emotional shifts is the most advanced so far. You can try for yourselves, if you like.”

One woman immediately stepped forward to lift Hong-bin’s chin with the tip of her finger, her expression hidden as her back was turned to Sang-hyuk. But Sang-hyuk could see Hong-bin, and he watched as the other’s unfocused eyes narrowed at her, taking a second before a smile spread across his lips, his gaze turning almost predatory. There were noises of shock and approval coming from the others and Hong-bin’s eyes widened in surprise, the woman pulling back with the same expression.

She trailed her finger down Hong-bin’s cheek, catching on his lip as she tsked chidingly. “Such a petite little thing. It’s a pity it’s so unreliable.”

Sang-hyuk couldn’t handle watching anymore, glaring down at his shoes while feeling utterly powerless. Was this what really happened when the sponsors came? For years, he had watched as interns took the cyborgs away, only to wait until they were brought back disorientated, oblivious as he dutifully helped them recover. Had everything been just to let them be exploited, to let these people that had money oozing from their very pores touch and pull at them, as if fighting for a new toy? The way they stared, the way they judged; it wasn’t fair. T52, Hong-bin…they were more than just ‘models’, more than just toys. They were both so strong, so _human;_ so much more than anyone standing in this room today.

They didn’t deserve to have themselves treated this way just for money. Money that wouldn’t even be theirs.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sang-hyuk snapped his head up to see Won-shik looking at him, his hand hovering over Sang-hyuk’s elbow. He hurriedly looked at the sponsors to see them still testing Hong-bin, Joon-myeon encouraging them. He let out a shaky breath.

“…no. I…I really don’t like this.”

Won-shik sighed, making sure no one was watching them. “I’ve never actually been in here either; it’s a whole other world. There’s a reason I never liked them.”

“Do they…do they not even feel bad?”

“No. They wouldn’t have stayed this long if they did. And I guess,” Won-shik paused, his eyes trailing over Jae-hwan, “it runs in the family.”

Sang-hyuk bit his bottom lip. “I don’t want to believe it. I-I really don’t.” While he had never considered Jae-hwan a friend, or really even an acquaintance, he had come to associate him with safety, maybe even freedom. At the bar, with Jae-hwan by his side, he was in a different world, a different time—when there, there was no lab; no cyborgs, no tests, no death. When there, he lived for himself, drinking until his mind could barely register his name and his worries were buried deep in his heart. When there, he was safe.

But Jae-hwan was just like the rest of them, and now knew him at his lowest. At his most vulnerable.

There was no safety.

There was no freedom.

When Sang-hyuk returned his attention to the demonstration, Hong-bin was being led out of the room, the sponsors having returned to their seats. It was silent save for the soft sounds of paper shifting, the sponsors readying themselves for the next one while Joon-myeon was speaking with someone at the door, his words hushed behind his hand. He and Won-shik shared a look when Y09 was never brought out, time seeming to stretch on as the wait grew longer—they both stiffened when Joon-myeon’s head whipped around to glare at them, Won-shik cursing under his breath when he saw the look of apprehension on the former’s face.

“Won-shik-?” Sang-hyuk was barely able to ask before the other was hurrying over to the door, pushing past Joon-myeon and disappearing. Sang-hyuk was quick behind him, one hand out to grab Won-shik’s arm, when Joon-myeon pressed a firm hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Stay here, Sang-hyuk,” he hissed, his voice filled with urgency. When Sang-hyuk opened his mouth to protest, he added lowly, “Keep them busy until I bring Y21.”

Sang-hyuk let out a high-pitched squeak when he watched the door slam shut behind Joon-myeon, suddenly incredibly aware of all the eyes staring at his back. He swallowed heavily as he tried his best to keep calm, knowing they were waiting and expecting something from him. But what could he say? He started to run through every conversation he ever had in his mind, trying to find something, _anything,_ that would sound intelligent, even thinking over all the big words Joon-myeon said earlier to maybe interest them. He glanced at the chair Hong-bin had been in only minutes earlier, wishing the other was here just for something to say. Hong-bin always knew what to say, and he always spoke in that super smart, vague way, he was sure someone would like that—

An irritated cough came from behind him, and Sang-hyuk squeezed his hands into fists as he slowly turned around, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. They were all staring at him, looks ranging from irritation to mild interest clear on their faces.

“I-I-” he tried, his throat constricting as their eyes seemed to grow sharper and sharper, sweat beading over his forehead—

“Ah, sorry about the delay!” Joon-myeon’s voice broke through, Sang-hyuk nearly collapsing in relief as the other man burst through the door and ran to his side. “There were some unexpected difficulties that came up with Y09, so we will not be able to give you a demonstration today. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Disgruntled murmurs went throughout the room as Sang-hyuk sent Joon-myeon a hurriedly disguised look of confusion, one the latter thoroughly ignored as he clapped his hands together. “So instead, we’re going to bring out what you’ve all be waiting for! We are preparing Y21 as we speak, and we’ll be able to happily present it to you.”

But the sponsors were not deterred. “What do you mean, ‘unexpected difficulties’?”

“Are you trying to hide a bigger problem?”

Joon-myeon laughed jovially, the sound so fake. “No, no no! Of course not! It was just a small reaction to one of our daily tests; it’s very common among the subjects in the beginning. There’s nothing to worry about.” The casualness in his tone, the confident way he held himself; it seemed even the sharpest couldn’t cut through Joon-myeon’s carefully built façade, the room slowly believing him as they begrudgingly fell along to his words. Sang-hyuk dug his teeth into his bottom lip from revealing anything, knowing anything from Y09 collapsing to fucking dying could be actually what was happening.

But he could never say that.

“You’ll all be very impressed with our Y21—in just a short month, it has already surpassed both T52 and Y09 in terms of responsiveness to its surroundings, and is close to matching X39 with how quickly it is able to recognize facial expressions. It is still learning how to mirror people, and its reactiveness to other’s motions and words is still slow, but the progress has been astounding. You will not be disappointed. And, ah!” The door creaked open again, everyone turning in anticipation, Joon-myeon’s enthusiasm erasing all doubt, “Here it is!”

Sang-hyuk could taste bitter copper when Hak-yeon stumbled through the door, his head hanging limply as he was led to the front of the room. He looked so small, so _helpless_ , his hair a wispy mess that fell into his eyes, his clothes nearly engulfing his body. Sang-hyuk immediately lurched forward to help, fighting down his first instinct to rip Hak-yeon from the nameless man’s arms. Hak-yeon’s body was completely pliant as he fell against Sang-hyuk, his lashes fluttering as if trying to figure out where he was. Sang-hyuk stood absolutely still as Hak-yeon struggled to lift his head, his chin dragging across Sang-hyuk’s chest, and for a second a flash of recognition crossed his face. His gaze narrowed, his nose scrunching, but then it was gone, his head falling back and his knees near buckling.

Sang-hyuk hurried to sit Hak-yeon down, taking extra care that he was alright before reluctantly stepping back—only to look directly into the stunned faces of Hak-yeon’s parents. His mother’s eyes were wide, her mouth slack as her hand instinctively reached out to grab her husband’s arm. His father in turn could only stare, looking between Sang-hyuk and the dazed body that was his son with an expression that was near stricken.

But neither made a move to say anything, nor did they attempt to catch Hak-yeon’s attention.

Once the initial shock wore off, their faces fell to indifference once again, the emotional distance they had created only widening further.

Hak-yeon had ceased to be their son the moment he ran off with Sang-hyuk, and that was only made clearer now. Sang-hyuk took a step closer to Hak-yeon, placing a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t matter what they did; he would protect Hak-yeon.

Joon-myeon cleared his throat, the sly smirk on his face showing he had also noted Hak-yeon’s parents’ reactions. “Y21 is still completing the initial tests, so we will have to ask you not to touch it today. In the future, when it becomes more stable, you will be able to test it for yourselves. It is still a little slower than the others, though this will improve over time. Doctor Han Sang-hyuk has been in charge of Y21 since the beginning, and has taken great strides to make sure Y21 is functional. Doctor Han, would you care to demonstrate?”

Sang-hyuk’s head whipped around to stare at Joon-myeon in horror, his whole mind racing as it dawned on him what the other had just asked. Nobody had said anything about him doing anything, just him standing in the back and overseeing everything He wasn’t supposed to talk, or interact with anyone. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Joon-myeon offered no help at his obvious distress, only sending him an annoyed eyebrow raise, so Sang-hyuk swallowed heavily before turning back to Hak-yeon’s limp body. If he refused, who would they bring in to force Hak-yeon to follow their stupid dance? Seok-jin? Chan-sik? No, he had to do this. He didn’t want anyone else touching him. Just in the last half hour alone he had seen how these people viewed the cyborgs, and he would rather risk everything than let them lay one finger on him. He had to do it.

With shaky hands and an equally shaky smile, he knelt down in front of Hak-yeon, leaning forward so he could look up into the other’s eyes. Hak-yeon’s gaze was hazy, his eyes dancing around with no real purpose, and Sang-hyuk gently took his hand. His skin was so soft, so _real._ So _fake._ Almost immediately Hak-yeon’s arm jolted, his eyes snapping down to stare right into Sang-hyuk’s. Sang-hyuk rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of his hand.

“Y21, can you hear me?” Hak-yeon blinked slowly, the confusion slowly fading as recognition peaked through, his lips trembling with words that his tongue was too tired to form. And then, so weak it was barely noticeable, his fingers squeezed back.

At that moment, the room melted away as Sang-hyuk focused only on the small pressure against his hand, his heart bursting with love as his smile widened, tilting his head to make sure he had Hak-yeon’s attention. He could see the smallest flicker of the drugs tugging at Hak-yeon’s consciousness, his breath labored as his fingers shook, and Sang-hyuk squeezed his hand again.

“Y21, if you can hear me, can you nod your head?” Very slowly, Hak-yeon nodded, and Sang-hyuk felt the pulsing urge to _protect_ rush through him, flushing his cheeks and leaving him utterly breathless. He took a moment to continue, keeping his voice sweet and kind. Hak-yeon always responded so well to warmth. “Very good, you’re doing wonderful. Do you feel this?” He twisted his hand around so his palm was pressed against Hak-yeon’s, his fingers locking around the edges of his wrist, and Hak-yeon nodded again. “What do you feel?”

Hak-yeon knitted his brow before his lips trembled again, “S-skin.”

“And what does skin feel like? Is it hard? Squishy?”

“S-soft.”

“That’s right!” he praised tenderly, patting his palm in reward. “And whose skin are you touching?”

“Sang-hyuk…” His words were so small, so quiet, but audible all the same.

“Yes! You’re doing so well, I am so proud of you.” He ran a hand through Hak-yeon’s hair without realizing it, having done it so many times it was almost second nature. But with it came the unexpected, Hak-yeon’s lips curling up into a dreamy smile, eyes closing as he reveled in a feeling he couldn’t actually feel. Sang-hyuk paused and blinked furiously to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Hak-yeon…Hak-yeon hadn’t smiled that freely in years, far longer than the few weeks he had been in the lab.

It was almost as if the little boy that peeked into his window and opened his world had returned, even if for only a moment.

He watched Hak-yeon’s smile for a few more seconds before turning to Joon-myeon, and stiffened when he saw the other’s wide-eyed expression. He quickly looked to the sponsors to see them all watching, enraptured, Hak-yeon’s parents on the verge of jumping out of their chairs. He noticed Jae-hwan leaning forward to watch, fascinated, and he hastily shot up to his feet, yanking his hand away and watching as Hak-yeon frowned briefly before growing silent once again.

Nobody said anything, nobody moved, and Sang-hyuk immediately began to regret ever waking up that morning. “I-I-”

“Do you treat all the models that way?” It was the first man, the one that had first noticed Hak-yeon and T52’s relationship, and the way his brow twitched up had Sang-hyuk sweating bullets. Sang-hyuk looked to Joon-myeon for help, panicking, and awkwardly nodded when he realized the latter was still too shocked to help. The man cleared his throat, never looking away from Hak-yeon as he tugged at his tie. “I have never seen a model react like that before. How long has this one been here?”

“A-about a month.”

“And has it always been this responsive?” Jae-hwan’s father, though this time Jae-hwan never looked away from Sang-hyuk.

“Yes. I,” he hesitated, looking to Joon-myeon to see if he should stay quiet, and let out a slow breath when Joon-myeon only dipped his head to continue, “I try to use a g-gentler approach when working with the cyborgs. I help them u-understand what’s happening and let them learn that they are equal to me.”

“Equal to you?” one woman scoffed.

He squirmed. “W-when they feel comfortable, they start opening up and asking questions. They notice things and want to learn.”

“What kind of questions do they ask?”

He thought of T52 huddled on his bed, fighting through resets just to try and find Hak-yeon’s hand, desperate for warmth. He thought of Hong-bin’s cold hands searching his body, trying to discover the world that was slowly opening up to him. He thought of Hak-yeon asking about the emotions Sang-hyuk felt, comparing them to pictures and wondering why he couldn’t feel them himself. There was so much these cyborgs, these _people,_ were feeling, were _wondering;_ these people here would never understand. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he knew they wouldn’t want to hear, and he tamped down his swirling emotions as he managed to stutter out,

“They want to understand what they are. They want to be human.”

That brought the whole room to a staggering halt, mouths hanging open, and Joon-myeon immediately jumped in. He pulled harshly at Sang-hyuk’s elbow, smiling again. “I’m sorry about that, Doctor Han is new to these procedures, there’s no need-”

“Actually, I’m very interested in what he has to say.” Everyone’s heads turned to Hak-yeon’s father, the first time Sang-hyuk had ever heard him speak. Even his wife look surprised, though he didn’t seem to pay her any mind. “While his ideas and methods are a bit…questionable, there’s no doubt that there are positive results from them. And the display just now with Y21 was remarkable, regardless of your opinion on the matter. I mean, isn’t that what we want in the end? For them to be human?”

Joon-myeon stood speechless for a long moment, taking even longer to regather his bearings. “Well, yes, but there are still procedures that must be followed-”

“And how effective have those procedures been? This project has been going on for over a decade, and there hasn’t been any progress close to what this young man has brought in. We should follow what he has to say to at least test if it’s effective or not.” He then glances over at the first man, humming thoughtfully. “But you brought up an interesting question that was never answered. T52 and Y21; you said there was a reason for them meeting?”

Joon-myeon looked like he swallowed a lemon, his lips locked tight as he nudged Sang-hyuk forward. “I, uh, mentioned to T52 once about Y21, and he was interested and wanted to know more. I knew it wasn’t allowed, but I let them meet once just to see what would happen. T-T52 had never shown interest in anyone before.” The following silence seemed reassuring, everyone listening, and he continued. “Y21 was still new, and T52 seemed to pick up on it. He talked to him about what was happening and gave him advice. H-he was a little wary about saying much in front of me, but he took very good care of Y21.”

“And this behavior never occurred before?”

“No.”

“Would we be able to see an example?”

“What?” both Joon-myeon and Sang-hyuk exclaimed, the two of them quickly restraining themselves when Hak-yeon’s father’s expression only hardened. There was something different about the way the man spoke, his words holding an authority that refused to be questioned, and nobody in the room dared to try.

“I want to see what T52 does with Y21. You said their behavior was the reason you let them meet, I want to see what you mean.”

“O-of course,” Joon-myeon said slowly, unable to hold up his smile as he slowly stepped back, his entire body brimming with displeasure as he went back to the door, whispering lowly to whoever was on the other side. Not a single word was said, a single paper rustled, as they waited, only the sound of Hak-yeon’s labored breathing able to resonate against the thick walls. Sang-hyuk felt he was near his limit, his body winding itself tighter and tighter as the urge to scream until his lungs broke free grew stronger and stronger. He kept his eyes trained on the ground the whole time, never looking away until the door creaked open, T52 stumbling through once again.

T52 was significantly less muddled this time, his body language much more guarded as he did his best to stand on his own two feet. His eyes swept over the room before landing on Sang-hyuk, expression softening only for a second until he saw Hak-yeon behind him.

“You lie,” was all he whispered before he shoved the man holding him away, his steps staggered as he fought his way over to Hak-yeon’s side. Without even a second to spare, T52 fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Hak-yeon’s shoulders and tucking his head under his chin, slurred shushing escaping his lips. Hak-yeon’s eyes fluttered open with the innocence of a child, taking a second to realize what was happening before he tilted his head up to see T52, a bright, lazy smile spreading across his face as he leaned in closer.

“I am here,” T52 said quietly, murmuring into Hak-yeon’s ear. “I am here.”

“Yes,” Hak-yeon murmured back, peaceful, and his eyes fell closed again.

Sang-hyuk bit his lip as he watched. He no longer was the one Hak-yeon looked to for affection, the one who waited endlessly just to catch a glimpse of his face. He was now replaced, replaced by someone who could give him everything he needed or wanted—everything Sang-hyuk couldn’t. And despite the devastation that filled him, Sang-hyuk knew he had to accept it.

“I’m impressed. And this was all based on a hunch?”

“Yes!” Joon-myeon agreed hurriedly, quick to please once he realized the response was positive. “Doctor Han has been a great asset in these past few weeks, and all our subjects have been doing very well since he started. I also…” Joon-myeon’s voice grew faint against the buzzing in Sang-hyuk’s ears, his attention only focused on the tender way T52 held Hak-yeon, the way his lips brushed Hak-yeon’s ear as he whispered silently, the way Hak-yeon let himself be fully embraced. Hak-yeon…

T52 was good for him. Wonderful.

Everything he hadn’t been.

He felt himself zoning in and out for the remainder of the time, no more questions directed at him as Joon-myeon worked to end the demonstration, planning on taking the sponsors to tour the lab. Sang-hyuk wouldn’t be needed then, able to escape, and he had no other plans than to run to his bunker and cry until the heavy weight on his body relieved even a little. He stayed back as T52 and Hak-yeon were led out, barely aware as the sponsors stood up and began to file out, and only moved when he was sure he was the only one left.

Until he lifted his head to see Hak-yeon’s parents standing right in front of him.

His hands tightened into fists when he saw the way Hak-yeon’s father looked him over, his lips twisted into a grimace, his mother glaring at him with all the ferocity of a yipping dog. He had never been so close to Hak-yeon’s parents before, but just that moment alone was enough to make him never want to see them again. These were the people who had left Hak-yeon alone with maids who never really took care of him, who paid no mind when Hak-yeon repeatedly snuck out to see Sang-hyuk. They were also the same people who never tried to find him, leaving him to forever rot in the small apartment Sang-hyuk had bound him to.

“Can I help you?” he asked lowly, no part of him wanting to talk to either of them. Hak-yeon’s father’s mouth twisted even further, his brow furrowing.

“Y21…how long has it actually been here?” When Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, the man’s hand shot out and grabbed Sang-hyuk’s shoulder, his grip so tight he could feel his nails digging into his skin. “Tell me the truth. Where did you find it? What did you do to it?”

“‘It’?” Sang-hyuk asked, a sudden rush of anger pushing the words out faster than he could think. “Why would you think I would know anything about _Y21?”_

Hak-yeon’s father spluttered, taking a second before his grip tightened ever harder. Sang-hyuk winced. “You’re the one who turned it, weren’t you? Tell me, what have you really done to it? I know it’s more than whatever bullshit that idiot back there spewed out.”

“I don’t know if I can answer that,” he said, matching word for word, punch for punch. “You seem to be awfully concerned with that one _model,_ I would say it was almost as if you were worried. Why, do you notice something? Does it make you wonder why you never cared that much when he was just Hak-yeon?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Hak-yeon’s mother let out a small gasp, a flash of emotion betraying her features as for just a second heavy pain crossed her features. The brief slip-up, the immediate hiding behind a blank mask; Sang-hyuk saw so much of his own mother in her, and he wondered what she would’ve been like had she not been introduced to this environment. What his own mother might have been like. Hak-yeon’s father’s hand fell away, letting out a heaving breath as he squeezed his eyes shut, his lips white from how hard he pressed them together. It was nothing how he imagined their reactions to be, the numerous scenarios of where they merely scoffed at Hak-yeon fading away as ones of horrified concern filled his head instead.

Somehow, for whatever reason, they were sad.

Somewhere, deep in their hearts, they had some level of love for him.

He wished Hak-yeon had known this.

“He…he’s alright, isn’t he?” The man’s voice had lost all of its thunder, his eyes showing all the pain his face couldn’t dare to show. In that second, he looked nothing like the intimidating man of earlier, a sudden shell of himself. “They’re not hurting him, are they?”

“…no.”

“Is there…is there anything we can do to help? To—to make it easier for him. For Hak-yeon.” Sang-hyuk was confused at the question, his mouth opening to voice his confusion, when Hak-yeon’s father suddenly regained his previous anger, grabbing Sang-hyuk’s collar and shaking him furiously. Sang-hyuk blinked in pure shock at the sudden aggression, stiffening and doing his best not to collapse in a ball of nerves and anxiety. “You assholes are always going on about all these fancy things you’re creating for the cyborgs, why aren’t you actually using any of them? The memory implants? The nerve enhancements? Why can’t you make his transition any easier? Why can’t you _help him_?”

Implants? Enhancements? Sang-hyuk had never heard of any of that before, his mind swimming as he could only focus on how close those hands were to his face, how hot his breath was on his skin. Were there other projects going on besides the cyborg one? How much else was hidden in this godforsaken place? What else…what else were they planning on doing to the cyborgs?

He was never given a chance to respond when the door opened again, Sang-hyuk unable to lift his head when he heard Joon-myeon’s dangerously low voice, “I do believe that is my employee that you are currently manhandling, Cha Min-jae. If you have any questions or concerns regarding anything discussed today, I would expect you to go through me.

“Now, I think it would be best for you to let him go.”

Sang-hyuk was gasping by the time Hak-yeon’s father finally let go, the other man’s eyes brimming with a terrifying mixture of rage and pain, his gaze unwavering as he stared straight into Sang-hyuk’s soul.

“Take care of him. Don’t let them hurt him.”

Sang-hyuk didn’t answer, _couldn’t_ answer, standing on wobbling legs until Joon-myeon successfully led Hak-yeon’s parents out of the room, and only then collapsed to the floor with his head buried in his hands and his lungs contracting so painfully he could only choke on air. Stupid, so stupid; what could he really do? With nothing but empty bravado under his belt, what could he possibly do to help anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm extremely sorry about the long delay, I know this chapter is over 2 months late. I got a new job, and unfortunately it doesn't give me a lot of time to write. Not only that, but this chapter was really hard to write—the sponsor scene was something I had always planned to do, but never actually planned on how to do it, so it took a long time. (not to mention I am in no way qualified in actual demonstrations, so if it was bad I'm super sorry!) 
> 
> Also, I'm not trying to force anyone or anything, but I was wondering if anyone could give any feedback about how the chapters are written? It's been a worry of mine for a while, and I've been wondering if the way I've been writing Sang-hyuk's POV has been hard to follow. I've never written such a narrow-viewed 3rd POV before, and Sang-hyuk tends to overthink and miss a lot what goes around him, which I'm worried it makes it hard for readers to follow the story. So I was wondering if anyone could let me know if that's true or not? If it is, I'll change it to make it easier for you guys! 
> 
> Thank you!  
> And in return for these super long waits, the chapters will be extra long!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I never know what to put in end notes, but I just wanted to thank you for reading this, and I hope it's keeping your interest! The timeline is a little all over the place, so it might be a bit confusing, but if it is please let me know! I'm willing to answer any questions or clarify anything, so please don't be afraid to ask! Also comments are super welcome, they are my will to live haha.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!~


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